


Of Stage Lights and Stage Fright

by AcrylicPaint



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quadrant Vacillation, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcrylicPaint/pseuds/AcrylicPaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Lapis wanted was to participate in the local production, but there was a minor element she hadn't taken into consideration when she agreed to take the leading role, and that was; dealing with the cute techie's constant staring.</p><p>That, and the fact she was beginning to stare too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marking Out

**Author's Note:**

> I took inspiration from a certain tumblr post I came across within the Lapidot tag. Something about a Theater AU. Credit to whoever came up with it first. (I don't remember the URL specifically, but if I come across said post again I will make sure to credit it properly.) I will continue this depending on the attention it gets. So, yeah. Here's my contribution to the Lapidot Tag (A.K.A Lapidot Hell)

She didn’t need this. She didn’t need the pre-developed, corny, and incredibly predictable plot that came along with the blatantly unoriginal concept of fated-lovers, romantic rivalry, and sexual tension. She didn’t need to feel exposed, insecure, or even _nervous_ in a situation she should be entirely comfortable in. She didn’t need the constant teasing coming from her co-workers, or the knowing glance coming from those she trusted most.

And most importantly, she most certainly did _not_ need to feel _her_ gaze perfectly fixed upon her body as she—gracefully, mind you—walked along the stage.

 There was something so unimaginably misleading about those olive eyes—that seemed to pierce her very soul, leaving her a wobbling, flustered mess—following her so closely, yet without a single trace of emotion on her freckled, stoic face. It was _infuriating._ _She_ was infuriating. Lapis Lazuli did not need to feel _shaky,_ or, _hesitant_ in her presence. Lapis Lazuli did not need to shiver before her gaze, or even avoid her for crying out loud. Lapis Lazuli did _not_ _need to deal with a stupid crush on the head of the tech crew._ ‘ _Unbelievable’._ She huffs under her breath, stomping down the stage and rushing to the changing room, ignoring the weird stares the entire crew was giving her, and slamming the door shut. She leaned against it, slowly falling to the floor, and throwing her head back before closing her eyes and breathing in.

 “ _Fucking hell!”_

She slams her fist against the wooden frame, hands making her way into her hair and pulling hard. Her hair was tangled, so this only managed to get her hands twisted deep within the blue mane, but she didn’t care. She glared at her reflection in the mirror in front of her; faced flushed with both anger and embarrassment. _Pathetic,_ she thought, looking away from herself for a second before resigning and looking despite her growing annoyance. Lapis let out a sigh and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. It wasn’t fair, really. She wondered how a simple look could quiver her confidence so quickly, or how a light touch could heat up her face in seconds. She hated it, she hated it with an endless passion and wanted the Earth to instantly swallow her whole so that the torture would end, and endlessly cursed the day all of it had started.

* * *

 It had been happening since she joined the local production; it was some ambiguously vague musical with an anonymous playwright. A couple of months back, Lapis was asked to perform by a close friend—Steven—who was friends with the stage manager; a snobbishly _proper_ lass with a perpetual stick up her ass and a superiority complex. It was aggravating at first, all things considered, but she went through with it for Steven. The boy had a way with words of encouragement that never failed to inspire her and reassure her that everything was going to turn out great, and just like that, rehearsal began. She woke up at ungodly hours to practice till the sun went down. Pearl was ruthlessly unforgiving. The _parvenu_ had a thing for repetition and was a strong believer of _practice-makes-perfect._ Lapis _hoped_ this was the case, because she couldn’t handle ‘taking it from the top’ more than ten times in a single day. Days went by quickly, quicker than she had wanted. Not to mention Lapis was quite the star of the show. She was, after all, the leading role. It was certainly what one would expect from a musical; thriving numbers, touching monologues, fascinating choreographies, and of course, engaging romance. Though she wasn’t one to do romantic plots—she found them repetitive and unnecessary—she was hooked on the amazing choreography, which was directed by both Pearl and the production manager, Rose Quartz. Lapis was astonished as well as intimidated at the sight of the large woman. She was unbelievably sweet and understanding as well as a capable leader. Rose was often the one that kept the crew in check and the morale high whenever Pearl was feeling specially thrilled, which would often end in yelling and sighing in exasperation.

 Then they got closer to tech week, and it was when shit hit the fan. When Lapis set foot in the theater, the place reeked of _dread_. Everyone was pacing rapidly, doing something, whispering to each other, or in a fetal position rocking back and forth. This was the case of Pearl, who was most likely having a panic attack over the equipment being set up. Stagehands were incredibly busy, moving in large speakers, headsets, microphones, and new stage lights to replace the old ones. _Something about the head of the tech crew complaining about the equipment being ‘archaic’ and utterly useless’_ _that forced the budget to obtain new equipment._ There was quite the number of new faces; A trio of troublemakers—as Pearl had put it—that were more concerned with chatting and pulling pranks on the rest of the crew than actually doing their work as sound and lighting technicians, a large stagehand whose size was comparable to Rose Quartz’s, _also, with a superiority complex_ , and of course, the famous—if not infamous—technical director, who was nowhere to be seen. Lapis stood there for what felt like hours, watching everybody work vigorously until the fabulously large stagehand bumped into her—if being slammed with what felt like a truck could be considered ‘bumping’.

 

“Hey, watch it!” She hissed, looking up to a wild mane of bleached white hair that kind of remind her of a certain, significantly smaller loudmouthed stagehand. The worker in question lower her eyes to meet the smaller girl’s, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly.” She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes when the tanned woman continued walking. She was holding a large box that was probably twice Lapis’ size without breaking a sweat. Lapis watched as she reached the stage and dropped it unceremoniously on the wooden set with a very loud ‘thud’ that resonated within the walls of the theater, making most heads turn.

“Jasper, you _ludicrous_ _imbecile,_ ” A new voice Lapis wasn’t familiar with. “What the hell did I tell you about handling my shit?” Most people were now openly staring at the comical scene.

“To do it with care?” The bigger of the two replied simply, in an absolute deadpan. Lapis tried her best to get a look at the other person but this one was hidden behind the stagehand. She heard the shorter one let out a sigh of what she assumed was resignation, before shoving her coworker out of the way and dismissing her with a wave of her hand. After ‘Jasper’ was abruptly shoved, Lapis was able to get a good look at the supposed techie she hadn’t met yet. The first thing she noticed was the amazingly disheveled, short blond hair that stood out from the dark stage providing its background. The locks seemed to stick up in different directions in ways that would make any physicist mad, and it took Lapis a while to notice any other physical feature outside from the lass’ hair. The girl in question was pulling what seemed to be a control board out of the box by practically burying her face within the machinery.

“Peridot!” A yell was heard from behind the stage and Lapis observed as the blond techie pulled her head out of the box in search for the source. Though Lapis was far away, she could make out glasses framing the girl’s eyes, but could not make out their color. She also noticed that the box shuffling had messed up her hair—more than what she thought possible—and now a few strands were hanging in front of the girl’s face.

“What is it?!” The girl replied. _Oh so that’s her name._ Lapis suppressed a grin. Apparently nobody was spared from the ceremonial name change. She still remembered her own, and the little ‘speech’ that came along with it; _“Alright, listen up, crew! I’m not going to bother remembering everyone’s names so I’ll be naming you myself!”_ Those were the words said—more like yelled—by, well, _The Boss_ , as everyone called him. Not that he had any _real_ authority of course. He was just legally the owner of the theater and of course, the one who paid everyone. Everyone in the crew had those kinds of names, including the director. Lapis had protested at first, but then rolled with it. The rest is history.

“ _Lapis.”_ She jumped.

“R-Rose—” She began, but was cut off by a wave of the woman’s hand.

“Ah, I get it. You haven’t met the tech crew yet, have you?” Lapis nodded slowly, unconsciously shrinking away from the choreographer. She wondered how she hadn’t notice the other’s presence behind her, and come to the conclusion it definitely _wasn’t_ because she was staring at the techie for too long and too intensely. “I know how to take care of that. Jasper!”

At the sound of her name, the stagehand turned around, finding the head of the crew motioning her to join them. Lapis felt anxious for a second as her co-worker made her way towards her, up until the point she was standing right in front of Lapis, towering over the significantly smaller girl. Lapis felt herself shifting away from the two, feeling somewhat uncomfortable from being near the two largest women in the team, but ended up bumping into Rose, who placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Jasper, would you be a dear and introduce Lapis to your group? We need everyone to know each other, and the leading role must be familiar with everyone in the tech unit.” Jasper looked back between Lapis and Rose, considering the favor for a second before shrugging.

“Sure thing.” She lazily threw an arm around the shorter girl’s neck, tugging forward. Lapis struggled under her grasp but gave up after finding it futile. She settled for glaring, until Rose yelled something at them from the distance.

“Oh, and, Jasper?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t scare her too much, would you?” To this, there was no response, which only made Lapis audibly gulp. She felt the body over her shake with laughter before she was bluntly dragged behind the stage.

 

Though she had been backstage several times, there was something about being _dragged_ there that made the place—and the experience—exceptionally terrifying. The area itself was illuminated only by a few yellow lightbulbs that seemed like they could explode at any second. The kind you’d find in haunted places, the ones that swing back and forth from a thin wire. Not to mention it was dusty and messy—the stagehands never bothered putting away props unless they were told by the director, or in most cases, by the crew member with the shortest temper. Lapis had learned the hard way that the crew member in charge of doing so was a short blonde named Sadie. An image of Sadie yelling about something involving the costumes sent a shiver down her spine. The costume tailor could be truly terrifying.

“So, leading role, huh?” And now she had to deal with conversing with her captor.

“Yes.” She tries her best not to scowl.

“How does it feel, being high and mighty?”

“Like walking on a tightrope covered in spikes. How does it feel being a pack mule?”

“I prefer the term ‘workhorse’, thank you very much. Buck, Jenny, Sour Cream, get out here!” Jasper’s voice sounds like a tiger’s roar that bounces of the walls and pounds deeply within Lapis’ chest. In a matter of seconds, three teens calmly make their way towards them, emerging from the dark side of the set. Lapis takes a second to take in their appearance; the tallest of the three is the first one to draw her attention, with his strangely _pointy_ —she assumed bleached—white hair, a sharp looking jawline, and a disastrous fashion sense to boot. The second guy is significantly shorter, with tanned skin, and eyes hidden behind a pair of shades. Lastly, the girl, with skin much darker than the second guy and—wow those are very big earrings.

“Lapis, this is the tech crew. Buck and Jenny are both Riggers, they also take care of special effects, while Sour Cream over there is our Sound Operator,” Jasper points at them respectively and Lapis tries her best to remember both their names and faces. “I’m Jasper—though you already knew that—and I’m the Master Carpenter.” Lapis hums in response and shakes each of the technicians’ hands before she’s abruptly caught in a headlock _again._

“Now up to the control room.” She informs and begins marching towards a dark, narrow hallway that Lapis assumes leads to a set of stairs. Jasper stops in front of a large mental door, unlocks it, and walks in, waiting for Lapis to walk in after her before locking it again. She hurries Lapis upstairs until she reaches a second door that is also locked. It takes her a while to notice the multiple locks on both doors, but once she does she tries her best not to question it. She fails miserably.

“Is so much security necessary?” She can’t help but ask.

“Our technical director is kind of paranoid.”

“Ah.” They both walk into the small room after the door is unlocked. Lapis immediately notices that the control room—unlike most she’s been to—was strangely organized. No cables lazily set up in weird places, or dusty boards. Instead, two boards, light and sound, were carefully placed in front of the large window, with color coded dimmers and not a speck of dirt. Whoever the technical director was, surely cared about their equipment. She unconsciously reached for the lightboard, fingers softly caressing the surface before a loud cough froze her.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch anything.” Before Lapis could say anything, Jasper immediately made her way across the room and caught the girl in front of her in a headlock.

“Lapis, this is Peridot, our technical director.”

“Oh, so _you_ are the techie?” Her face twisted in a scowl and she huffed.

“Don’t call me that. Jasper, what did I tell you about bringing outsiders in here?”

“She’s the leading role. You two need to know each other like kin by the end of the production.” She suddenly grins widely and pushes Lapis towards the technician, before turning her heel and walking out. She can make out a faint ‘play nice’ from the bottom of the stairs, and Lapis pretends the close proximity doesn’t bother her.

 

At this reach, Lapis can clearly make out Peridot’s olive green eyes behind by thin frame glasses, and freckles that spread all over her nose and under her eyes. She also notices deep eye bags that scream ‘workaholic’ and ‘done with this shit’ but she assumes that’s just Peridot’s natural aura. It takes her a while to tear her eyes from those startlingly unusual verdant orbs, and it seemed like the technician was having the same problem. It takes her even longer to realize she was being _held_ by said technician, who looked mildly uncomfortable. Lapis comes to the conclusion that the suggestive position originated from Jasper’s ‘gentle’ push, and slowly regains her footing, mumbling incoherent excuses, and a faint apology.

“Don’t worry about it. Just, refrain yourself from touching anything in this room, including me.” Lapis blinked, and took a step back before quickly nodding, still struggling with breaking eye contact.

“Good. Now, if you’d excuse me, I have work to do.” Lapis observed as the technician threw what looked like a coiled microphone cable over her shoulder and placed a pen behind her ear, before shoving past her to the door and unlocking it.

“Oh, and, pleasure to be working with you, Lazuli.” With that, she left, leaving the fairly confused actress to deal with her mental dilemma.

* * *

 At least two weeks passed before the official start of Tech Week. Two weeks of setting up and rehearsing with the new equipment. Two weeks of fear caused by loose stage lights. Two weeks of yelling, crying, laughing—sarcastically of course—and _not_ sleeping. Two weeks of technical difficulties, avoiding setting fire to the set, and blaming the tech unit for _everything_. Two weeks of sore muscles for the actors, sleepless nights for the managers, and growing frustration for technicians that were still ‘looking for the problem’. Naturally, this was the everyday life of Lapis Lazuli, but there was a single miscalculation Lapis had completely overlooked; Peridot’s _irresistible_ scent that reeked of _asshole_. For Lapis, these were two weeks of dealing with Peridot’s bullshit, and realizing that she was crushing on an immature jackass.


	2. Soliloquy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tech Week begins, and it goes exactly as expected.
> 
> Terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so people actually enjoyed this so I might as well update it. Thanks to those that took the time to read it and leave kudos. I appreciate it. Concerning the comments; You are all trash. (So am I though, so it's alright.)

On the first day of Tech Week, Lapis learns that if there’s anyone equally ruthless—if not more so—than Pearl, it was Peridot.  The technician appeared much calmer than she truly was, and had the tendency to blow up at insignificant things at the most unplanned—not to mention fairly inconvenient—moments. Nonetheless it wasn’t something Lapis wasn’t necessarily _used_ to. Dealing with Pearl was hard enough as it was, and after a couple of productions of the same kind of crap one becomes numb to it. The entirety that was the tech crew, for instance, seemed completely unfazed by the constant grumbling coming from their director, and performed accordingly in ways to avoid angering the technician more than was necessary. Still, Peridot had no chill.

The week had started as badly as one could’ve expected it to. Tech Week was dreaded by every actor, director, and stagehand because it was the epitome of Murphy’s Law, and was utterly unavoidable. As an illustration to describe just how _badly_ the week had begun, there’s the fact the air conditioning of the theater had broken. In the middle of August. Not bad enough, you say? Then add the fact the spotlights were high-intensity discharge lamps that were comparable to having two small suns beaming down at the actors. Said actors were not happy, and neither was the team _dealing_ with the small suns. And, as we all know, heat angers people. Lapis was now experiencing this as she sat behind the stage, waiting for her cue.

 

“Lapis! Get out here, we’re starting over!” Her clothes stuck to her body with sweat, making her tug at her tank top restlessly. Today was the only exception to wearing costumes. She made her way towards the set, stopping in front of Pearl, who was currently in a very _heated_ argument with Amethyst; a stubborn Carpenter that wasn’t as driven as Pearl, for a lack of a better word. This too, was a common occurrence.

“What do you mean we’re running it  _again?_! P, it’s the fifth fucking time and it’s only three in the _fucking_ afternoon!” Amethyst was furious. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail that did very little to keep it out of her face, and she tugged at her black shirt persistently. Lapis, however, understood her point. Pearl _was_ pushing them a little too hard. Pearl seemed tensed as well, cheeks flushed from the heat and face twisted into a nasty snarl. They glared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the taller girl relaxed and breathed out.

“Alright. _Fine_. Everyone, take five,” The immediate response was the crew collectively sighing and dropping to the ground, clearly exhausted. “Except for tech crew.” A faint ‘ _oh for fuck’s sake’_ can be heard from the distance, but Lapis pays it no mind.

“You’re all such melodramatic fainéants.”

“ _You_ try standing under that condemned beacon of hell you call spotlight.”

“Amethyst, that is no way to refer to—”

“Pearl.” The couple stops bickering almost instantly at the sight of the technical director. Peridot seems miserably annoyed, and it occurs to Lapis that she had never _seen_ the technician with her hair up before, much less with her glasses _pushing up her bangs_. She catches Lapis’ eye for a split second before looking back at the manager, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. Lapis tries her best to keep her eyes away, by distracting herself with a strand of hair that was falling in front of her face. She swears she feels the blonde’s eyes lingering on her for another second before she turns to Pearl.

“I’d like to know which one of you, _clods,_ _knocked down my followspot_.” She spoke between clenched teeth, face twisted into a very deep scowl. Her intense glare shifted from Pearl to the actors, landing on Lapis for a moment, and then moving away. She wonders how the technician’s eyes were able to appear _greener_ when she was angry, and conceals the need to shiver. Peridot crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, which Lapis found irritating.

 

Pearl stayed silent for a second before glaring intensely at Amethyst, who raised her hands innocently.

“Don’t look at me; I was busy getting yelled at by you.”

“I don’t care who did it, but because of that, fixing the AC will take longer.” Among the faint murmurs, a single ‘Goddammit Lars’ can be heard from the distance, making everyone’s head turn towards the Tailor and the Prop Runner, who were visibly taken aback by the sudden attention. Lars looked away scratching the back of his neck, ignoring the intense glare coming from the tailor. Peridot narrowed her eyes at the runner, before her eyes shifted to something Lapis couldn’t see from her position. A shriek came out of the scrawny lad when Jasper picked him up and threw him over her shoulder.

“Now you’re cleaning it up, runt. Let’s go, Peridot.” Jasper made her way backstage, closely followed by Peridot, who gave Pearl an apologetic look before shoving her hands in her pockets. The team stayed silent before breaking out into whispers and giggles. Lapis couldn’t stop staring at the spot the technician had stood in moments ago. The issue was resolved moments later, when Lars arrived covered in sweat. No one dared to ask what had happened to him.

* * *

 The five minute break ended up being a dismiss call, for everyone was too tired to continue with rehearsal. There was the second rehearsal at six of course, but the three hour break was graciously appreciated. Though most had decided to leave the auditorium, Lapis chose to stay for reasons she did not wish to share with her co-workers. She stayed in the changing room until everyone had left for coffee or work, before coming out. She wandered aimlessly from one side of the stage to the other, occasionally swinging her hips and swirling around, her blue hair spinning wildly, leaving vivid shapes as she went. Soon enough, Lapis began to dance. Essentially, it was the dance of her scene, but with little pieces of herself thrown into it. Moves from past choreographies, and shows, fused perfectly within a silent melody that only she could hear. She would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t get carried away, because at one point Lapis swears she sees without actually seeing, and hears a piano, and a violin, and a whole orchestra playing for only her. There’s an audience too, and she’s in her element. She was a drop of water falling rhythmically in the rain, not letting the wind quiver her graceful fall, and then landing with the sound of a drum, silent, yet stern. She closes her eyes and she’s gone. She jumps, lands, spins, barely making any sound aside from her feet touching the wooden stage, and even so it’s so unbelievably quiet. In her mind, she’s dancing at a shore, legs swiftly kicking and splashing droplets of salt water, while the raging sea roars behind her, but her music is louder; loud enough to muffle the waves, and with it her racing thoughts. She ignores her shortening breath, ignores her sore muscles and her need to rest. She ignores as the ocean disappears and the waves stop at her feet. She ignores the reflection the calm water creates, but she fails to ignore the single wave that was hovering over her; a mirror. The music picks up and she spins with the crescendo and as quickly as it began it was over. She fell.

At least, she thought she did.

She opens her eyes to a rain forest in the morning sun. Lapis knows that’s not true, but after being surrounded by blue, the term seemed most appropriate. The shade seems familiar, but at the same time strangely foreign, as if she was used to a _harder_ and _colder_ hue. Yet this one was warm, welcoming even, if just for a moment. Then it all came down to her. Green eyes are not quite a forest, but it was just as easy to get lost in them. She was trapped, but she wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not. Her daze ended when she felt a light squeeze on her hips, and her eyes widened. The reason she hadn’t fallen was because someone had caught her, and that someone was still holding her. Lapis blinked a couple of times, regaining her senses and taking in her surroundings; she was leaning again something, no, _someone_.

“Peridot…”

 She felt her stomach twist and quickly moved away from the technician, who seemed just as confused. If she was being held by Peridot that meant she had been there the whole time. She suddenly felt sick.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought there was nobody here.” Lapis bites her tongue, cursing the stutter.

“So did I. What are you doing here?”

“I, um, like to practice alone?” She wasn’t _lying_ , but still the other didn’t press further. Lapis stared at the technician for a while, trying to find some sort of clue of to what she was thinking, but she was as illegible as a machine. Her eyes were hard again, and Lapis nearly screamed. It was so frustrating. She looked so vulnerable back then. There was another silence, and it was awkward. The tension was overwhelming, and Lapis felt like she could just drown by staring at Peridot’s eyes for too long. This one seemed unfazed, but a faint blush was evident on her cheeks, probably from the accidental embrace.

“Well, I have things to do. You should probably go home.”

“Shouldn’t you be going home too? We’ve got about two hours.”

“The tech crew practically lives here. I have to make sure everything is working.”

There it was again. Another pause and the tension intensified by the second. Lapis suppressed the urge to bite her lip when Peridot licked hers, and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Peridot’s gaze landed on her lips for a second before she looked away, and it sent Lapis over the edge. She was doing it again. The staring thing. It was annoying, and made her feel uneasy. She didn’t want to look at herself because she _knew_ she was blushing, and she hated it, so she lowered her head and hid her face behind her bangs. She looked at her feet, and could see Peridot’s shoes shifting from side to side, until eventually they disappeared from her sight.

“Well, um, I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Wait.” Peridot froze.

“What?”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Er—long enough?”

“You were doing it again!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were staring at me again.” Lapis snapped her head up and crossed her arms. She was not about to be made a fool of again. She watched as Peridot’s eyes widened, her shoulders visibly tensing.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were!”

“Well, you were staring at me this morning!” Lapis opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it. The silence returned and Lapis groaned.

“God, you’re impossible!” Lapis huffed and turned her heal, leaving the perplexed technician alone with her thoughts in complete disarray.

Once she was out of sight, Lapis made a run for the changing room, locking the door shut and leaning against it. She covered her face with her hands and screamed, which of course, came out muffled. _How can she be so calm?!_ It was as if the imminent air of tension didn’t affect her. And if it did, she did a marvelous job at hiding it, which only made Lapis feel ridiculous for being open with her emotions. She hated not being able to read her, and not being able to do anything to resolve the issue. Yes, she came to the conclusion there was indeed an issue. Was it attraction? Romantic or otherwise? She didn’t know, but she was getting sick of it. She’d have to confront her about it someday, but today was not that day. She felt sick, hot, and angry. The whole encounter had left her all worked up. In all honesty, she was starting to question if wanting to punch someone in the face was considered attraction. She had other ideas, however. Maybe pushing her against the wall while gripping her wrists tightly would erase that pretentious grin off her face. Yet she knew that would lead to something else entirely, that was definitely _not_ proper of co-workers in a work environment, but boy did she want to do it.

She needed a cold shower.

* * *

When Peridot got back from the control room her legs were shaking. She was sweaty and breathing heavily, almost as if she had been running for miles. That’s how _she_ made her feel. Any sort of interaction with the actress left her a hot mess. It was like an emotional rollercoaster that left her dizzy and in need of fresh air that wasn’t available. Every time Peridot ventured into taking a quick glance at those ocean blue eyes, she felt like she was drowning in the deep sea, miles and miles away from civilization; complete and utterly hopeless, occasionally gasping for breath. And it made her angry. She was a _distraction_. The way her lips moved when she spoke, or the dimples that only showed when she was laughing, it was all so damn distracting. It was driving her insane. She sat down, too overwhelmed and nauseous, and gripped her head tightly. What had happened moments ago had made her lose her cool. Lapis looked _beautiful_. When she had noticed movement upon the stage she made the mistake of checking it out, and she couldn’t stop. The way the actress’ hips moved was mesmerizing, and she almost envied the amount of grace she emitted. She was capable of breathing out pure, overwhelming confidence that cracked every time they interacted. It happened so rapidly that Peridot began to question if it had truly happened or not, but the warm feeling of her hands on the other girl’s hips was still there, tingly. She despised it. She despised her, but she knew she was lying to herself. Peridot directed her hate to the source of her confusion; the insufferable Lapis Lazuli. Peridot wanted to pin her down, to make her vulnerable, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. She knew what she wanted, and it repulsed her. _Fuck her._ She meant it, but she wasn’t sure in what way. She _wanted_ her to know the reason she was staring.

“What an asshole.” She pretends her cheeks aren’t heating up, because they _aren’t._ She pretends she doesn’t care, and she feels like a hormonal teenager all over again. _Peridot get your shit together, this isn’t high school._ She needed to put a stop to it. She also needed to wash her face with cold water.

The sound of the main door opening and closing makes her lean against the large window of the control room. Lapis had left. Peridot silently thanked the gods and continued her way to the bathroom. She splashes her face with cold water over and over, hoping to reduce the heat and refresh her face—the AC wasn’t fixed yet, but she was working on it. She stared at herself in mirror for a second before walking out; the water had done nothing to lessen her parlour. Peridot slowly walked back to the control room and switched everything off. She took her bag, locked the door and made her way downstairs, before stopping right in front of the main entrance of the theater. Normally, she would’ve stayed till the second rehearsal, but she was way too distracted to deal with technology at the moment, so she walked out, settling for a coffee place down the street. Maybe it was just Tech Week getting to her. The stress, frustration, all of it fused into misdirected anger. She needed caffeine, perhaps if she sleep deprived herself enough she’d go back to normal, or at least that’s what she told herself, even though she knew she didn’t want to go back.

It isn’t until she’s half way there when she realizes she still had to face Lapis a second time today. She wasn’t sure she was psychologically prepared for that. She contemplated an idea; perhaps being forward would do the trick. If Lapis was willing to play that game with her, then she’d push her to the edge. She’d make Lapis _hate_ her, she’d make her beg. She’d break that perfect, elegant, lithe façade and turn her into a quivering mess. If she was bothered by Peridot’s staring, then she would soon know what _real_ staring was. Maybe that way Lapis will know better than to tempt her.

Deep inside she knew that she wasn’t doing it to spite her, and that she was dooming herself in the process.


	3. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peridot's plan backfires and it hits her like a damn truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to TigermoonBETA for reading this fic. (I absolutely love SR)  
> Technical Pet Peeve: Cleaning sweaty mics.

_“The microphones are too high. Bring them down!”_

_“Who the hell is coiling the cables wrong?!”_

_“Alright, which one of you assholes messed with my presets?!”_  

 

Another day, another confrontation happening in the tech crew. Lapis heaved a sigh. This wasn’t at all unusual—she knew dealing with that jackass of a ‘TD’ was a pain in the ass—but today seemed especially aggravating. On a regular day, their constant bickering distracted her from the otherwise boring atmosphere, but as show night grew closer, everyone’s nerves seemed to intensify, while Lapis’ temper seemed to shorten.

“Is she always like that?” She turned to the stagehand next to her who appeared to be fighting with a cable that wouldn’t coil properly.

“Who, Peridot? Only on torture week. Team work is not exactly her forte.”

“What, does she prefer to work everything herself?” Lapis held in a laugh as she brought a bottle of water to her lips. The whole ordeal seemed very unlikely in her eyes.

“Pretty much. She’s the only one capable of doing so.”

“Wait, are you serious?” She coughed into her elbow as Jasper howled next to her. Lapis turned her head to get a glance at the technician in question who was currently testing the light setting on the lightboard. _A single person doing the work of six?_ She couldn’t believe it, no matter how skilled Peridot appeared to be at her job.

“That nerd has been doing this for years, it’s no surprise she found ways to perfection it.”

“Is that so? You’ve known her for long?”

“Since high school. The so-called-prestigious technical director was the kid that would equate in their free time. Not to mention the one that would boast about correcting the teacher.”

“Would’ve loved to see that.”

“She grew out of it eventually. Became obsessed with college, y’know. Now she’s just a grouchy prick with a permanent stick up her ass.”

“So, like Pearl?”

“Exactly like Pearl.”   

 

The day had started with a sermon from Pearl—Lapis hadn’t bothered showing up to second rehearsal the day before—who lectured her on the importance of attendance and other subjects the actress hadn’t bothered paying attention to. She was distracted, to say the least. She had forgotten a few lines—among other things—and was having a hard time putting effort into her dances. In her break she’d sit with the tech crew and observe the chaos unfolding before her like a soap opera. Most of the time it involved a certain pyrotechnic with anger issues who strongly believed adding flames to every single scene was absolutely necessary, and another actress who tried to calm her down. Watching Peridot struggle with keeping the team focused was definitely Lapis’ favorite hobby—the only one she’d admit anyway. It was amusing. She told herself, even when her eyes lingered a little too long on the techie’s body when this one took off her hoodie, or when they lingered on her face when she took off her glasses.

She was struggling with eye contact again, but this time instead of not being able to break it, she was having a hard time maintaining it. Peridot’s stares were becoming more and more evident—action she was already having a lot of trouble dealing with—and Lapis didn’t know what to do about it. She could feel the blonde’s eyes fixed permanently on her body every time she made her way to the changing room, or across the theater. Not to mention that she refused to be subtle about it. Every time Lapis caught her eyes on her, this one wouldn’t even turn. Instead, the techie would continue, or even _wink._ Lapis didn’t know what had caused the sudden change, but she didn’t like it. She found it harder to control herself, and to stay cool while rehearsing. Sometimes, on rare occasions, Pearl would ask her to deliver a message to the techie, and she’d have to make her way towards the control room and _talk_ to her. This wouldn’t be an issue if said technician wouldn’t gaze at her like some sort of predator. She found herself holding back a snarky comment that wasn’t really snarky as much as incredibly suggestive, and in other occasions she’d quench the need to lick her lips and grab the other by the collar of her hoodie. She was able to identify that feeling as _hunger._ For what, exactly? She wasn’t sure, but she had an idea.

 Lapis had a plan that she wanted to try out, but it required a lot of self-control. 

* * *

On the second day of hell week, Peridot notices that her plan backfires beautifully. She had tried her best to scare the actress off, but instead, she had enticed her almost completely. Instead of avoiding the technician’s eyes, she would look for them, engaging in an intense, non-verbal combat with tension that could be cut only with the sharpest knife. She would do her best to engage in physical contact whenever she could in such ingenious and subtle ways that it left the techie breathless. _Mind if I borrow this for a sec?_ The actress would whisper into her hair, leaning over Peridot completely, and taking whatever she needed, not without adding more pressure than was necessary. This way the technician could feel every part of the other’s chest on her back and struggle with keeping her breathing even. She was toying with her. _Hang on, there’s something on your face_ , she’d say, before snatching Peridot’s glasses and holding her face with her hands for what felt like hours. _Hmm, could’ve sworn there was something…_ She’d later say, to excuse her behavior, before walking away slowly, swinging her hips. It was driving her insane. And all of this had happened _this morning_.

Second rehearsal wasn’t any different. Peridot was doing mic checks when she came in. Lapis was in her costume, which, in reality, was just a dress. Perhaps ‘just a dress’ was an understatement; a blue dress that, although simple in design, matched the actress’ looks and personality. A dress that would whirl and turn with every move, and that changed colors depending on the hue of the followspot. A dress that—Peridot hated to admit—hugged the actress’ curves perfectly and left enough to the imagination. The technician was having a hard time figuring what she hated more; the dress, or the girl wearing it.

“Hey, Peri! Nice eye bags.” She rolled her eyes at the nickname, and silently cursed Jasper for being the only one responsible.

“Don’t call me that. What do you need?”

“No need to be so grumpy, I need you to fix my mic.” That wasn’t so bad, unless…

“Where exactly, is your mic?” Lapis grins widely, and the technician feels her heart jump to her throat. She sighs, “You’re such a pain.” And that’s all the actress needs to sit on Peridot’s lap, making her form stiff. With shaky hands, Peridot reaches for the microphone resting between the zipper of the dress and the curve of Lapis’ back, and wow, her skin is warm. At that moment she realizes tan lines are a thing, and that they’re incredibly attractive. Heat practically _radiates_ from the actress skin, and it takes all of Peridot’s self-control to not feel any more that’s truly necessary. She feels Lapis shiver before her, and her throat goes dry. Her hold is already on the device, but she allows her fingertips to linger for a brief moment before turning the switch and placing it back in. It feels…nice. Very, as a matter of fact. She’s not satisfied, however. She traces idle patterns on Lapis’ skin with her thumb as she holds her shoulders gently. There are ghosts of freckles that cover the smooth skin of her shoulders, most likely from her affiliation with the beach, and Peridot can’t help but run her fingers over them. She can feel Lapis breathe in at the touch, and for a moment, she swears she hears a faint hum, until the sound of what appears to be a knock on the door shakes Peridot off her daze.

“Am I interrupting something?” Peridot freezes and suddenly Lapis’ skin is fire, and it burns her hands. Everything is too hot, including her face. For a moment she forgets the air conditioning was fixed the night before, because when she removes her hands from the actress’ shoulders they’re tingly and blazing, but it somehow doesn’t hurt. Lapis is quick to regain her composure and stands up, leaving the spot on the technician’s lap cold. Peridot swallows, but refuses to admit her dismay.

“No, Peri here was just helping me fix my mic.” She says, a little too calmly, too natural. And that bothers her. Wasn’t _she_ the one that couldn’t keep her cool a day ago? But Peridot says nothing. She only nods and hopes the heat dispels in the seconds it takes Lapis to walk to the door. But of course, Lapis doesn’t leave the moment she stands up. Instead, she reaches for the technician’s chin and pulls it up ever so slightly, before leaning down and placing her lips on the soft skin of Peridot’s cheek. She doesn’t pull right away, either, remaining in that position for a few seconds before pulling back slowly, with an impish grin of triumph plastered on her face.

 

Just like that she leaves, practically _skipping_ her way down the stairs and over to the stage. It takes every little bit of will to stop Peridot from screaming, so she settles with doing so internally. Her eyes move from the set to the stagehand standing on the doorstep and her hands fly to her face. The heatwave was still present, and she considered taking her hoodie off for a second. Jasper made her way towards the TD and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve got it rough, runt.”

“You think?!”

* * *

When Lapis arrived at the stage, she felt renewed. Everyone seemed to notice the sudden change, but refrained from inquiring. She was filled with mischief and silently laughed to herself at the memory of the techie’s face. She was proud, full of conceit, and incredibly motivated. A small part of her twisted with genuine delight, and it sickened her. She refused to admit she was doing it for self-gain, and not to spite the technician. She ignored her warming insides and beating heart, and moved right into planning her next tactic. She was not about to be brought down by her own affection. Somewhere, in the back of her head, she could still feel the other’s touch on her skin, her breath on her neck, and her chest rising and falling in a somewhat uneven fashion. _It’s disgusting_ , she thought, but her body thought otherwise. The urge to dominate was overpowering. To hold the technician down on the chair with her hips fractious and unruly. She ignored the warning signs, almost completely. Almost.

“Lapis?” The grinning stopped when she turned to Pearl, who looked at her suspiciously.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You seem more avid than before.”

“It’s nothing you should worry about. Are we taking it from the top?” She turned away and made her way behind the stage, lifting herself high and proud, hoping to catch the techie’s eyes before hiding behind the curtain. She wasn’t looking, much to her dismay. But it sure fulfilled her ego. She could see the technician blushing to her neck and holding her face with her hands in utter embarrassment, and it made her smile.

“We’re doing sound cues, people, so listen closely for your entrance!” She heard Pearl yell from outside. She subconsciously brought her hands to rest behind her neck; ghostly over the spot Peridot’s hands were and breathed in. It didn’t take long for the tech crew to get ready, and the signal was a simple; a quick blackout.

“Warning LX 24.” She hears the first lighting cue from the two-way radio hanging loosely around the pyrotechnics’ neck known as Ruby and breathes out.

“Standby LX 24” Thirty seconds later, the second cue and Ruby is running backstage, signaling the technician with the followspot.

“LX 24 GO.” Last cue and the lights are out. She continues to listen to another transmitter; _Warning Lights 28, 29, and 30. Warming sound, Lights 31, GO, Light 32, GO._ Seconds later; _Standby sound,_ Lapis braces herself. She goes in with the music. Her muscles tense, in an oh-so-familiar manner that makes her shiver. _Lights 28, GO, Lights 29, GO, Lights 30, GO._ The stage comes to life slowly, with a faint bluish glow that dies behind the set. Finally;

“Sound, GO.” And she’s out. She runs, she twirls, she spins, she leaps, and she’s in the shore again, not in the theater, not in the auditorium, and not on stage. The music starts slow, with a drum, then a whole percussion ensemble, then a violin, and this time it’s real. This time, although amplified, and computerized, it’s there and she can hear it. She feels the music guiding her, and feels the followspot burn her skin but she doesn’t care. She can’t hear the cues anymore but she knows more lights are turning on and that it’s her moment to shine _literally_ , because her dress lights up with the blacklight, making it almost incandescent. Her arms and legs are light, and she feels likes she could simply fly, as if wings were forming from her back and lifting her off the ground. At least, that’s the only thing that would explain how she felt like air. She becomes a blur of blue and turquoise with the crescendo but this time there’s no wave behind her. Instead, there’s a shockwave that pushes and pulls until she’s in the center of the stage, and then she stops. She stops and drops to her knees along with the music and a final light cue; _BLACKOUT._  

 

The curtains close and she’s backstage, pulling at her dress that is sticking to her chest with sweat and she’s greeted with pats on the back and smiles because she knows she was showing off and it worked. She’s breathless and she knows it. She knows her hair is a mess and that her feet hurt from leaping so much but boy does she love doing what she does. Though she’s a little dismayed that there was no forest waiting for her. She hears the cues again, but she doesn’t really _listen._ Her scene is done, so why bother? Except now she becomes aware. She comprehends why she was listening so closely to the cues. It was _her voice_. This time the music is faint, indication there’s dialogue, and the lighting less dramatic; less thrilling, and less tense. The stage is clearer, with more light. The audience can _tell_ what it is that’s happening. They pay close attention to words, or at least, that’s what she expects them to do, when it happens. Now it’s just Pearl, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, waiting for a single inaccuracy, error, flaw to stop it immediately and start again, because that’s what theatre’s all about. _Repetition._ But Lapis knows there’s more to it than that. Because she’s the actress. She’s the one up there, on the stage. She’s the magic, she’s the story, she’s…she’s nothing to the performance but she’s _everything_ to the audience. And it makes her feel trapped; trapped in a glass contraption for everyone to see like some sort of exhibition. She feels something viscous in her throat and tries to swallow, but she can’t. Tears form in the corners of her eyes but she stops them from falling. She knows she’s worth the trouble. She knows performing in front of many is nothing new, and that she’ll be fine, but something in the back of her mind warns her is too close to home; too intimate. She swallows. She will leave them in awe.

“Well done, Lapis. Take five. You’re not up until the next act.” She hears Pearl say from behind her and she turns to her with a smile. The stage manager returns it with one of her own and ruffles her hair, before returning to the auditorium. Lapis walks towards the changing room—another common occurrence—and leans against the door, shaky hands reaching for a bottle of water and bringing it to her lips. From the corner of her eye she spots a silhouette at the end of the hallway. As it moves closer, the light from the swinging lightbulbs illuminate its face, but leaves the rest of the body in the darkness. She makes out messy hair, and she knows that if she lowers her gaze she’ll meet green. Peridot doesn’t speak. She doesn’t praise her, doesn’t even greet her, but her eyes say everything. Her olive eyes show amazement, admiration, astonishment. She doesn’t come any closer, and leaves as quickly as she came, walking towards the auditorium, checking for feedback and other technical things, she assumes. She takes a deep breath. Maybe the forest was there after all.


	4. Cue-To-Cue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lapis confronts Peridot about missing her cues in her own unique and suggestive way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I WAS going to post this yesterday, but then something came up so I had to delay it a day. I'm planning on updating every tuesday, and expect the chapters to be longer from this point on. (Not by much, but still.)
> 
> Concerning the comments: Thank you. Really. (I've gotten so many nice messages I love you all) Once again, thank you all for taking the time to read and leave kudos. They encourage me to continue.

Life as an actress had prepared Lapis for many things. However, seeing the technical director of a somewhat recognized production hanging from the ceiling of an auditorium was not one of them.

 

The third day of torture week had begun as strangely as one would’ve expected it to—if you had expected anything out of the ordinary, that is. Lapis had, of course, but that particular sight was definitely _not_ it. She had walked in early in the morning, and upon entering, came face-to-face with something that appeared to be taken right out of a comic book. The blonde technician was practically hanging from the fly system of the theater by a number of ropes, cables, and a damaged counterweight. She was missing her glasses, which, she assumed, had fallen to the ground due to the _accident_ , and her hair was lose, hanging helplessly from her scalp. Lapis could make out the blonde’s forehead beginning to redden from the moving blood, and overall, the display was exceedingly amusing. She was so distracted with the trashing mannequin that she failed to notice the stagehand that was _trying_ to help her partner—if you could call ‘helplessly rolling around in laughter’ help.

“Uh, is everything alright?” Lapis coughed into her elbow, making the stagehand turn.

“Well, looks like _someone_ didn’t get the memo.”

“I’m sorry?” Now Lapis was just plain confused.

“Hey, blockheaded jackass, I’d appreciate your assistance with my current situation.” Lapis raised her head and beamed puzzlingly at the technician, who seemed to be strangely unamused with her current condition. Given the circumstances, one would assume that anyone in her position would be outraged, if not utterly terrified. Yet here was Peridot, looking as if she was dealing with another broken device or some innocent horseplay. The ropes not only restrained her legs, but moved up to her chest, binding her arms to her sides, like some sort of straitjacket. Though the flying system wasn’t too high up, a head-first fall to the ground would guarantee a certain concussion.

“So, how exactly did this happen?” Lapis managed to say, after being engrossed with Peridot’s problem.

“For starters, this insolent fool you have here was not supposed to be here. In fact, neither of us is,” Jasper began, swinging the technician back and forth by pushing her gently. “Quartz sent a message this morning; somethin’ about taking the morning off as a breather.”

“Then what are you two doing here?”

“I was going to—”

“Peridot came to play ‘incompetent mad scientist’ and I came to make sure she didn’t get herself killed,” The carpenter ignored the fierce scowl and continued, “but as you can see, she got herself into this mess and I was the only one benevolent enough to help her.”

“You were the _only_ one here. And you’re not even helping!”

“Wow Peri. I sacrifice my resting time to help you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Ugh, just, get me down for fuck’s sake.” 

* * *

It took merely _seconds_ to get the technician down. A few antics with the pin-rail and Peridot fell like a brick—the counterweight had been raised of course, Jasper wasn’t that inconsiderate, or vicious, for that matter. She complained about a killer headache and a few rope burns, but other than that she was _‘fine and dandy’_ as Jasper had put it. There was a silent agreement between the actress and the stagehand, as they silently dragged the grumbling technician before this one threw a fit about “having to work on the rigging system”. They ignored her and made their way towards “that one coffee place down the street” that practically treated the Theatre group as kin. Upon arrival, Jasper flung the blonde down on a chair and walked towards the counter with a silent _‘move and I will use you as a stress ball’_ lingering in the air. Peridot heaved out a sigh and crossed her arms.Lapis was torn between finding the blonde childish or endearing, so she settled for both, giggling at the other’s apparent annoyance.

“What’s so funny?!” She growled, which only made the actress laugh louder.

“Maybe the fact you were pretending to be a stage light less than ten minutes ago!” She managed in between breaths. This only managed to further fluster the technician.

“Lazuli I swear to God—”

“Good, you haven’t killed the leading role yet! Here’s your coffee. Try not to fry your circuits.” Peridot scowled but didn’t protest, taking her plain black coffee and nearly drinking it as if it was water. Lapis looked at Jasper for an explanation but this one only shook her head and took a generous swig of her beer. She wanted to question the choice of alcohol early in the morning, but came to the conclusion she wouldn’t get an answer she wanted, or an answer for all it was worth. Theatre was tough job, but it was tougher on the stage crew.

“So? What do we do till second rehearsal?” Jasper shrugged.

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m heading to the gym.”

“And I’m going back to the theater.” The carpenter rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow at the technician, who only turned away, resting her head on her hand.

“I…guess I’ll do that too.” She notices Peridot’s skeptical gaze for a second before she turns away again. It’s not like she had anything better to do anyway, or at least, that’s what she thought. She allowed herself to relax as she gazed out the window of the small cafe; unlike the previous days of the week, the sun was hidden behind a layer of dark clouds, giving the impression that rain could fall at any moment. Despite that, the day was bright enough to reject that possibility. Lapis took a quick glance at the blonde who had neglected her phone and was currently looking out the window with a vacant expression on her face. Head resting on her hand while the other laid lazily over her arm, and eyes half lidded with sleep. Peridot caught the other’s eyes for a brief moment and the actress watched as her eyes hardened in a matter of seconds. Lapis sighed, and turned away, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

“It’s going to rain soon, I better get going.” Lapis turned to Jasper, who was already gathering her things.

“How can you tell? Seems pretty bright to me.”

“Just a hunch. I’ll see you guys later.” With that, she stood up and left; the bell of the door ringing softly behind her. Lapis’ eyes followed her until she disappeared down the street. She turned to Peridot, who was still lost in thought, and nudged her knee with her own. The technician shifted her gaze and raised an eyebrow, finishing the last of her coffee without tearing her eyes from Lapis’.

“If Jasper is right we better get going. Otherwise we’ll be stuck here.” She reasoned, earning a shrug from Peridot. Lapis threw her bag over her shoulder and headed out. She waited for the techie to follow, but this one stayed where she was, still distant. After a few seconds, she breathed in and stood up to meet the actress outside.

 

It turned out Jasper was right after all. The rain had caught up with them halfway there, forcing them to retreat into a number of stores before rushing to the next one. Eventually, they made it to the auditorium completely soaked. Lapis pulled a towel out of her bag and proceeded to sloppily dry her hair, spraying water droplets everywhere. Peridot gawked as she removed her drenched hoodie and was greeted with a sheepish grin and a wet towel to the face. Peridot growled, but was silenced when she felt hands digging into her soaked hair. She froze, only to realize the actress was trying to dry her hair. With less than gentle grips and squeezes, her locks stopped dripping with water, so she took a hold of Lapis’ wrists. The actress snorted at the sight of the techie’s hair, which was standing in all directions until gravity took its turn to lower the locks. They framed Peridot’s face, and it looked…cute, in a way. She had never seen the techie with her hair down before, and she found it captivating. Caught in a daze, she noticed small drops of water trailing down Peridot’s nose, and down her chin, so she brushed her face with the towel carefully over her cheeks and down the slope of her nose.

She took her time to inspect her work; Peridot’s glasses had been removed, so it was easier to spot the never-ending cluster of freckles that framed the girl’s nose. Her hair was down, plastered into each side of her face and a lazy frown was evident. Her eyes, however, were softer than when they were at the café and her pupils huge. Lapis rejoiced in triumph silently. She slowly, painfully so, moved her hands to hold the other’s face and traced her cheekbones with her thumbs. She felt Peridot breathe in and relax, her breath clashing against Lapis and it just occurs to her that Peridot is _very_ warm. She leans ever so slightly into Lapis’ touch and something inside of her curls and it’s pleasant. Sweet even. Many thoughts run to her head but she ignores them—especially the viscous feeling in her gut. She can feel this _shiver_ that shakes the technician when she interlaces her fingers behind her neck, tugging gently at her hair and holding her in place. She becomes increasingly aware of the other’s hold on her hips, and conceals the need to lean closer, further into the embrace. Peridot gets thrown in a haze of waves and sea foam as she glances into the actress eyes, half lidded with—with what? She wasn’t sure. _Desire_ perhaps. She shakes her head. Her eyes are a midst of warmth that forms from every breath Lapis takes, and every time her eyes land on Peridot’s lips. She decides Lapis’ face is the safest to look at. Notwithstanding, she avoids her eyes, and settles for memorizing the shape of her lips, and the way she peers from under her blue bangs. Subconsciously she reaches and brushes them off her face, and is taken aback by how _soft_ her hair is.

In a matter of seconds, Lapis grins, and Peridot widens her eyes when she places a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. Heat rushes to her face and her stomach flips over and over, but by the time she processes everything, Lapis had already pulled away and had left her utterly dazed by herself. The gears turn and she can almost _hear_ the sizzling sound of her brain clarifying; ‘Yes. That just happened. You can breathe now.’ And she’s gone.

“Lazuli!” She yells and her voice bounces off the ceiling of the structure, and is followed by a resolved echo that reaches the far corner of the theater. She clearly hears the mischievous cackling of the actress laugher coming from the changing room; light and soft, with a hint of vice that drips from every giggle. Peridot groans loudly and stomps towards the control room, forgetting for a second about the towel hanging loosely from her shoulder. 

* * *

 “Peridot _you useless lesbian.”_ How charming, as well as regrettably appropriate. Peridot glared at her co-worker, who was leaning against the door of the control room with her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot impatiently. Jasper’s glare was intense, and filled with enmity. She knew she had fucked up, but was still coming to terms of _why_ and _how._

Her mind goes back to what had happened in the morning—second rehearsal had just started—and chokes on air. She knew the cause of her distraction, but she wouldn’t bring herself to admit it—much less to _Jasper_ , of all people. Admittedly, she _had_ allowed herself to zone out on several occasions that resulted in scolding from Pearl, but she hadn’t paid much mind after the first complication. In fact, she just stopped caring after a while. The thing about, well, rehearsal is that it’s not necessarily lively most of the time. It was boring, and uneventful, especially for the tech unit. The only issue is that when cues are involved, you’ve got to pay attention. And Peridot would have, really, if it wasn’t for that sickening _heat_ that hadn’t left along with Lapis. She was distracted. _Again_. And it was a hundred percent Lapis’ fault.

It started when Pearl settled to run Lapis’ scene. It was a very vivid scene, with a strong, personal monologue that—Peridot swears—was made _especially_ for her. No matter how many times she watched it, she got goosebumps every time the actress practically _screamed_ her lines. _‘Did you even wonder who I used to be!?’_ That simple line was her cue for a complete blackout, and then a fade in.

The only issue was that she was too engrossed to complete it. She had missed her cue.

Pearl groaned from her seat in front of the audience. “Oh, my god, Peridot.” And in a matter of seconds, Jasper was bursting into the control room. The technician had prepared herself in advance by covering her face with her hands, but saw that Jasper had no intention of hurting her. Or at least, it looked like it. The stagehand had a stern look on her face, making her illegible. It was strange, seeing her so serious. Peridot gave her a side-glance, but didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Jasper only groaned and shifted her head, motioning Peridot to look at something. She looked down at the stage to see Lapis _indignant_. She gulped. It was the third time, on the same scene, and she had forgotten that Lapis had had to re-do it at least three times now because _she kept messing up_. A silent agreement between the two and Jasper was heading down to the stage, to help with some props. Peridot took a deep breath and apologized from the window of the control room, scratching the back of her neck and avoiding eye contact. It was too late though, by the time she had leaned down, Lapis was already making her way towards the stairs and into the room.

“What is your problem?!” She yelled when she walked in. Her face twisted into a frown and arms crossed tightly across her chest. Peridot looked for words but only managed to open and close her mouth ineffectively. Lapis slammed the door closed and slowly made her way to stand right in between Peridot’s legs, in front of her work bench. She eyed the technician cynically, eyes shifting up and down. There was something quite _feral_ in her gaze, which made Peridot shiver. She wasn’t going to try anything, right? She drew back when the actress leaned down and clutched her wrists down to the arm rests, lowering herself to eye-level. Lapis was close. Really close; so close her breath caressed the skin of the technician’s lips, and this one could only think of; _fuckfuckfuckfuck she’s way too close._ A faint ‘ _answer my question’_ whispered into the crook of her neck set her on edge.

“What’s _my_ problem?” She began quietly. “I’ll tell you what my problem is.” She looked down at her lap, face hidden within her messy blond hair. Lapis was visibly taken aback by the sudden change of mood, but remained in her position. “ _You_ are my fucking problem. You’re the reason I keep messing up. Can’t you see?! All of our conversations end up like this because you—you do something so—so incredibly inappropriate and overall you’re so…so…” She stammers, and hesitates to look up at Lapis’ accusing glare, only to find nothing but bewilderment and turmoil.

“So what?” Peridot tenses, because she doesn’t know. She tenses because Lapis’ voice is hoarse and her eyes are pleading and she can feel her heart bursting out of her chest. Her head snaps up.

“You’re so damn _distracting_!”

 Something inside of Lapis snaps, making her eyes narrow and her form stiffen. Peridot notices and conceals the need to _tremble_ before those menacing eyes. Something about the actress reeks of dominance, and it terrifies her. Or is that excitement she’s feeling? A sudden pull on the collar of her hoodie brings her back to reality and all of a sudden she’s even _closer_.

“ _Distracting_ , you say?” She mutters into her ear, making the hairs on the technician’s neck stand. “I’ll _show you_ distracting.” And it just occurs to her that Lapis is in fact sitting on her lap, restraining her hips with her own and holding her wrists down into the arm rest, and wow those are lips on her neck. She becomes _noticeably_ aware of the other’s hips shifting on top of hers and tries her best to stifle a groan. Sweat trails down Peridot’s brow and she feels a _sting_. _D-Did she just bite me?!_ Her breath gets caught on her throat and she swallows. Which feels like trying to push down honey; sticky and painful.

“L-Lazuli what are you—ngh” She gasps and it’s over, but the sensation is still there, burning into her skin. The actress gradually lifts her head, kissing her way up from the technician’s throat to her ear before drawing back and grinning madly. She leaves one last kiss on Peridot’s cheek before climbing out of her lap and walking away, not without giving one last glance at the flustered technician, and licking her lips.

 

There’s a certain haze that stays with her, even when she’s alone in the control room. She can’t mutter a word. It all comes out strangled and thorny. She rests her hand on her neck and she _knows_ there’s a bruise. _Hickie actually._ Shush. After a while it hits her;

  _She just kissed your neck and you did nothing to stop her._

 "No you see, there must be a misunderstanding—”

  _You practically moaned when she bit you._

“That is most certainly not what happened okay—”

_You enjoyed it._ She goes silent after that, gears turning, and flushed down to her chest and up to her ears. She leans down further into her chair and grips her head. _Did that just happen?!_ She pretends it didn’t, but the moment she looks down at the stage she finds Lapis staring back at her, grinning smugly. _What an arrogant piece of shit_. She thinks, and turns around. This was not over. Not yet at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the snowballing begins.


	5. Ellipsoidal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peridot has her revenge and Jasper is DONE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 4 am I FEEL GREAT. Thank you all for reading (I've said this before but I'm not any less grateful) and for leaving kudos. It always makes my day to find kudos and comments on my work so yeah thank you!

“I refuse.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. It’s just one night—”

“I will _not_ take over for you on Tech Week, Jasper. You _know_ how troublesome the whole ordeal is.” Jasper sighs, but doesn’t resign. Four days into hell week and she was _so damn tired._ She needed a break, but she knew she wasn’t going to get it from Pearl _._ “Besides,” Peridot continues, “didn’t you get a breather _yesterday?”_

“Please, that was hardly three hours, and it was day time. I just need a drink.”

“As if the time of day stopped you from getting drunk.”

“What’s your damage?” Peridot rolls her eyes, but doesn’t respond. They were halfway through first rehearsal and the last thing she needed was to work for two. Supervising was hard enough as it was, and she needed Jasper’s intimidation—Er, _persuasion_ to keep everyone on task. Then again, the stagehand became rather _fidgety_ when stressed, so perhaps it would be wise to avoid any possible calamity. She glanced down the window as she thought it over. Pearl was hooked on what she assumed was a casual conversation with Rose, but judging by the director’s jittery expression, the talk was anything but. Farther away, the pyrotechnic was having a bitter dispute with one exasperated actress, who was doing a marvelous job at keeping her cool, and the riggers were most likely slacking off on the stage. She turned around when she caught a glimpse of blue, and distracted herself with the dimmers of her board.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But you better not be hungover the next day, or I will ‘accidently’ drop a stage light on you.” She received a toothy grin and a rough pat on the back that nearly crushed her lung.

“I owe you one.”

“Don’t bother. I already lost count.” She hears the familiar clank of the metal door closing, and seconds later she catches a flock of white hair making its way towards the stage. Almost immediately, the riggers jump to their feet and make their way backstage, swiftly dodging the carpenter’s ire, faintly laughing in the distance. She stretches and moves away from the window over to the vacant sound board before picking up a microphone and connecting it to the console.

_“The sound technician’s ass is requested in the control room.”_ Soon afterward she makes out the footsteps of a running crew member making their way upstairs, and the obnoxious laughter of the rest of the production crew.

* * *

“You want me to do _what?_ ” A man on his twenties with particularly pointy white hair leans against the wall of the control room, as he tries to process the task he was faced with.

“It’s not so difficult. I just need you to supervise as I work the lightboard and the console.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to let me do _my_ job while you supervise?”

“I can’t supervise while I work the lights, but I can do both boards as long as someone takes charge,” she reasons, earning a raised eyebrow from the engineer. “Plus, they won’t listen to me. Jasper is taking the night off.” She heaves out a sigh at the end of that, already regretting her decision of letting the carpenter run off like that.

“Is that even allowed?”

“No. But I have enough authority to allow it. Pearl is less likely to annihilate her if she knows I gave her permission.” Sour Cream gives her a skeptical look before nodding, and resuming his work with the sound console. “So? Will you do it?” she sounds a little desperate, but she reasons it’s for good reason.

“Yeah, I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to do it with as much efficiency as Jasper.” Peridot shakes her head and nods as a form of silent gratitude. She runs a hand through her hair and looks down at her work bench. She knew she had to rearrange the set for the night, but it was certainly easier said than done. She pushes that thought out as she stands up, and makes her way to the door; as much as she loved working with technology, hours caged inside a small room made her dizzy. Or maybe she had too many things going on in her head, which wasn’t that far off either. She was so hooked on that train of thought that she didn’t realize she had reached the auditorium and that she had bumped into someone that was just as distracted as her.

“Hey, watch it—Lazuli?!” The actress looked somewhat baffled. Almost as she had been in a trance of some sort, and it takes her a few seconds to realize who was standing in front of her. Once she did, however, a smile crept to her face, catching the technician completely off guard. It looked _genuine?_ Peridot narrowed her eyes and prepared a snarky remark, but only managed to glare silently and ignore the warning signals her brain was sending off. Something about the whole thing was suspicious, that much she managed to deduce, but Lapis simply stood there, smiling as if the tension that had been there for the past month had suddenly dissipated. The sight of the actress sent a shock to the technician’s system. A physical reaction that tensed her instantly, yet the other wasn’t faced by it. She awkwardly reached to scratch the back of her neck, but by the time she realized her mistake it was too late. A flicker of the actress’ eyes and the smile was replaced by a smug-eating grin. Eyebrows raised, and a complete change of body language; Lapis held her hands behind her back in an innocent manner, while her head tilted to the side ever so slightly, which only made Peridot more uncomfortable.

“…Right. Anyway, I’ll just get going now—” The blonde began to turn but was stopped by a hand resting on the wall next to her face—caging her back against the wall. She looked at the actress dubiously before raising an eyebrow. This one only grinned silently, and inched closer to Peridot’s face.

“Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could spend some time together.” Lapis purred into the technician’s ear, never breaking eye contact. Peridot only grimaced, before a figurative lightbulb lit up over her head. The air was heavy with mischief as the techie mused over several ideas until she settled with one. With a swift kick behind the actress’ heel, she turned them over, pinning Lapis against the wall with a firm grip on her wrists. _How the tables have turned_ , she thought, grinning despite herself. It felt nice, being in control for once, even if Lapis was looking at her like _that_. Amusement was there of course, but she looked eager. She was waiting for something, with her bottom lip held firmly between her teeth and her eyes hiding behind blue bangs. A sudden urge rose from the pit of her stomach when Lapis licked her lips, making her legs shake. She swallowed, and really, it would be so much _easier_ if she weren’t doing that—that _thing_ with her leg. She growls and pushes her knee between her legs to steady her, but it backfires spectacularly. Lapis makes this delicious little noise that is way too enticing. Not really a sigh as much as a cross between a whimper and a moan and it makes her knees weak with want as her insides twirl and turn. She hates how _good_ it feels, which makes her glare more intensely.

“Well? You have me where you wanted. Now what?” _Revenge?_ It goes unsaid, but the thought still lingers. And for a second. For a second she even considers it.

But she stops herself because that’s exactly what she wants. _Wrong-wrong-wrong-she wants you to do exactly that. To lean in, real close, and—_ Stop. And that’s what she does. She leans in, so close their foreheads practically touch’. So close she can make out tiny freckles that are hidden within the tanned skin of her cheeks that can only be seen from this distance. So close the actress’ breath sends shivers down Peridot’s spine, and she knows if she was to check her arm for goosebumps they would be there. But she waits. And she knows that it’s just as painful for two of them, but she makes that sacrifice to spite the other. She restrains the _want_ , the _need_ , everything with every bit of her will and stops; millimeters away from the other’s face, until her breath hitches on her throat and Lapis closes her eyes.

She waits until then to break away and leave.

* * *

 When Lapis opens her eyes she’s gone and she’s left with unsatisfied rage burning into her very soul. _That—that fucking jerk with her shit-eating grin_. She curses herself for falling for that blatant deceit, but _fucking hell_ was she needy. Still is. She had stopped herself from pulling Peridot’s hair and bringing her _closer_. To close the gap. She was so unimaginably stoic and unamused. It angered her, and now she was made a fool of _again_ like when the techie first began staring at her. She was so distracted with her boiling hunger, yearning, that she didn’t notice the slacking grip on her wrist and the loss of shadow over her head. She watched her go nonchalantly, occasionally turning to smile, and disappearing behind the set. After catching her breath, she leaned off the wall and made her way to the stage, knowing the crew was waiting for her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to act in her current state.

“Ready to go?” She finds Sapphire looking at her expectantly, and she nods. She doesn’t risk the possible crack in her voice when she listens to Pearl. She only nods and reads over her script for something to do, something to busy her thoughts with, but of course, it seems impossible, with the everlasting heat between her legs. _So this is how I made her feel, huh?_ She almost feels proud, that she had pushed the techie enough for revenge. She looked around to get a glimpse of yellow or green, but Peridot seemed to have gone back to the control room, or outside, which wasn’t likely, considering the evident storm. She shook her head. Thinking of her whereabouts was not going to help her focus. But boy did it pick at her playful psyche. This was all a game, wasn’t it? To see who could break who first. It certainly wasn’t courting, she figured _that_ much. And if it was, it was the strangest she had ever witnessed. It was almost a challenge, and she wasn’t one to turn down challenges. And if it indeed _was_ some sort of sick romance, she figured she had nothing to lose.

“Amethyst I _will_ smack you with the stand.”A sudden commotion gets her attention, and when she turns she sees the short pyrotechnic pointing at a stagehand with a followspot threateningly. She decides that a fight within the tech crew would do enough to distract her and get her mind of certain _things_.

“Damage the equipment and you’ll have to deal with Peridot’s bullshit!”

“What is going on here?!” Jasper immediately drops a box of props and stomps to the bedlam, making it extra noticeable that she was _not_ happy. “And what was that about damaging equipment?” Lapis crosses her legs as they hang from the stage, and leans back on her hands.

“Amethyst is being a little—”

“Ruby is threatening me with a—”

_“Enough!”_ Lapis looks over at the pyrotechnic—Ruby—and she swears she sees smoke coming out her ears. The girl was _boiling_. Her hairband did very little to keep her hair from her face as sweat dripped down her brow. If she didn’t know Ruby she would’ve thought her eyes were solid crimson with rage she knew was temporary. Amethyst on the other hand, was visibly composed, save for the unmistakable mischievousness and mockery. The girl was only testing her, it seems, but it might’ve backlashed. “There won’t be a need to get Peri involved into this mess if you two quit it with the horseplay,” Jasper continues, getting rather irritated. “Unless you want me to call her down here.”

“That won’t be necessary—”

“Please don’t—” Just like that, the stagehands retreat into their respective working areas while Jasper sighs and practically drops dramatically next to Lapis. “Damn kids.”

“Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hey, what’s with the fear of Peridot?” She decides to let her curiosity unravel for the time being.

“Well, you’ve seen how she gets.”

“Yeah, but you’ve worked with her for longer.” Jasper looks…contemplative for a second.

“I guess it’s just her sense of authority. She’s been going at it for the longest out of all of us,” Lapis only nods, and the stagehand takes the cue to continue, “at first it was just a part-time job as she studied, but I guess she liked it here. Ever since then she’s been working with different shows, theatre and otherwise.” She unconsciously looks up at the control room window, while Lapis takes it all in.

“She takes her job very seriously, doesn’t she?”

“It wasn’t always like that.” That caught her attention, making her turn to Jasper expectantly. She simply shrugs, “She used to be more cheerful, in her own, twisted and villainous way. Thing’s kinda went sour after the incident.” _How_ _cliché,_ Lapis almost muses. Nothing like a typical theatre accident to change a person, huh? Wait, that was a little insensitive. She makes a cross between a surprised and confused noise as she tilts her head to the side. Jasper raises an eyebrow, “I’m not the right person to ask, you should ask her yourself.” The actress only gives her a side-glance, before huffing.

“I don’t think it’ll be appropriate for me to do so.” She doesn’t let Jasper question it, because she stands up right away and walks behind the stage, leaving very a perplexed Jasper to wonder.

* * *

 Second rehearsal was about to start and Peridot was already dreading giving Jasper’s night off. The control room work benches had shifted to fit the occasion. Both consoles were next to each other for easy access, close to the window, and the cables were carefully relocated away from clumsy feet that might entangle with them. Sour Cream had moved to work downstairs, near the stage behind a black wall to work cues with a small headset. This scene required riggers, and she knew how that usually went. After all, what would you expect of a bunch of supposedly ‘responsible’ young adults hanging a couple of stores off the ground? Nothing good, that’s for sure. But she knew her team, and Sour Cream was more than enough supervision as long as he didn’t get distracted over some feedback. She brought her hand to her ear to test her headset, waiting until the engineer gave her thumbs up from his position on the auditorium. Once that was over, she went over to the lightboard and tested her presets; basic dimmer checking and mic leveling—she wasn’t one to leave the dimmers up and wait for somebody to _scream_ into her beloved microphone.

“ _Are we set to go?_ ” She hears from her transmitter and manages a quick ‘yes’ before placing a hand on each console. She hears Pearl give a couple of instructions before she hears a light cue from the engineer and her right hand moves to the dimmers reflexively. She had to admit, years back she wouldn’t have been able to work both light _and_ sound at once. In fact, most of her co-workers found it unbelievable, and laughed at her attempts. _It depends on the production_ , she muses, and it’s true. She was skilled enough to work both in _this_ show. But she could recall some others that made it utterly impossible. Too many light games, and too many songs sometimes. Recalling those made her shiver. Some production crews were ruthless. Pearl was okay. She knew what she was doing, and wasn’t one to blame the tech unit for _everything_. Not that much, anyway. The rest of the actors and prop workers where nice too. Peridot still felt wary around the costume designer, but that feeling seemed to ease too.

Thinking of actors immediately brought her thoughts to the insufferable mane of blue hair that haunted the corners of her eye. Lapis Lazuli was just something else entirely. She held herself with such magnitude that it was almost hypnotizing. Yet her temper tricked her petite demeanor. She wasn’t one to be fucked with, to put it simply. _Yet here you are, having a blast doing so._ Sometimes she wonders how it came to be this way. Was it frustration? That was a possibility, but somehow she was certain it had started that fateful day she walked into the control room, trailing behind Jasper. Something pulled her, but she had ignored it until recently, when she had caught her staring. It was almost as if…she felt safe, glancing from a safe distance. Memorizing the way she moved along the stage…but it was only a matter of time until she  noticed. And she did. So there she was. Looking back at simpler times. She still needed to figure out how to deal with the actress without being hasty. Though it was getting harder every time she had to face her. She could let herself go, but who knows what would happen? Co-workers weren’t supposed to do that—what exactly? She still wonders.

_“Peridot. Warning.”_ Her headset brings her back. Right. Rehearsal. She was the tech director, and was working. She looks down at the stage; everything is ready, and the lights are off. _They must be waiting for you._ Her fingers linger, briefly hesitating, before pushing gently, and the stage comes to life like it always does. There was something she loved about her job. The feeling of being in control, and expecting something to happen and it does. She knew her lights, she knew her sound, and she knew they wouldn’t fail her. At least, she hoped they didn’t. Nonetheless there are still errors. Sometimes lights flicker or don’t turn at all. Sometimes feedback is too much, and she temporarily becomes a track runner, moving back and forth between the back of the auditorium and the speakers. It wasn’t easy, but it was always worth it the day of the show. The perspective was completely different from the control room. You could see the tricks, but the magic was still there. At times, you could see the tech crew following along the lines, or singing along to musical numbers. It was almost like a family, until…

Until it was over.

She had almost forgotten. Theatre groups were stationary, but the running crew wasn’t. When the doors to the last show open up, she’ll be getting ready to move to another production, never to work with this group again. That’s how it worked. She didn’t like getting attached to certain people. It was often troublesome. She had the luck of having Jasper in her own group, and to be honest she was the only one she could tolerate. Alcohol weaknesses and all. Her left hand flickers to the dimmer of the sound console, hanging loosely over the level marked; _Mic 1_. Meanwhile her right hand brings the dimmers up and down, sometimes slowly, sometimes to instant blackouts. It was nearly automatic. Her body moved like an operated machine, with a coded circuit to lead her moves and execute commands. She didn’t belong on the stage; too much freewill. She almost didn’t know what choice was, but less expression or emotion, but it didn’t bother her. She was fine behind the scenes. It allowed her to observe.

How else would she be able to marvel at Lapis’ dexterity?

It was almost whimsical. Loosing focus at a simple move. Getting dry-mouthed at a smile and dumbfounded at a wink, or a bottom lip being bit. She guessed that, deeply, she was okay with it. She didn’t mind, knowing her time was running out. It was a temporary distraction that wasn’t necessarily _wrong_. It was a game. A game without rules. Who cares if she allows herself to get lost on a sea of blue? As long as it didn’t interfere with her work it was fine. Right?

A flicker of a flashlight gets her attention. The riggers were ready. She shifted her gaze to the stage, instead of the fly system. A shy smile greets her, and for once, she gives her the benefit of the doubt. The riggers begin to work, and she busies herself with cues left and right. Her hands are restless, working lighting cues and keeping the mics are stable levels. She looks down one last time, and she catches the actress eyes. She smiles despite herself, because this was all what theatre was about. Taking risks, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little heads up; I'm taking requests and prompts (My tumblr is artistic-shadow) for a long fic after I'm done with this one. (Or maybe short drabbles if I've got time) so don't hesitate on asking questions or requesting things. It gets me motivated.


	6. Ad Lib

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The production crew takes a break five days into hell week and Peridot has trouble with predictability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's not Tuesday?! That's outrageous! (I wrote more to make it up to you please forgive me. School is still a thing for me and the chapters are getting longer.) I will try to get everything on schedule (even though this fic is near its end) for the next 2 chapters, or at least the day after. I refuse to delay it more than that.
> 
> Thank you all for being patient with me, and thank you for actually taking the time to check for updates. It really means a lot to me you enjoy my work.

The smell of liquor wasn’t something she was fond of, but she had to admit the warm, murky feeling that arose from the pit of her stomach every time she took a swig was somewhat satisfying. Peridot wasn’t much of a drinker, but she had learned to appreciate good alcohol when the opportunity presented itself, and tonight seemed to be the case.

“And then this—this _asshole_ …just fucking _blames_ me for the whole thing like, who the fuck _does_ that?!” Jasper was in the middle of a passionate display of outright ire when Peridot realizes she might’ve had one too many drinks, because she was actually _laughing_ at the stagehand’s tale. The production crew had decided to take the night off, now that they were officially three days away from show night. It seemed appropriate, and they were all rather afflicted by the pressure. Any other day the technician would’ve declined the offer, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt—the refused to admit she found the idea of hanging out with Lapis outside the theater appealing, so she settled with the lame excuse of _“It’s not like I have anything better to do”._ Nonetheless, Jasper was pleased.

“And that’s the reason we don’t allow _acquaintance_ _s_ in the theater before the show.”

“You mean _exes_ , right?”

“I thought the whole ordeal with Peri’s had cleared that out.”

“At least my ex didn’t turn into my boss.” She ignores the outgoing, drunken gallimaufry of hollering and laughter as she washes down the last of her beer. She manages a quick glance at Jasper, who looked just as surprised as defeated; an expression she can only read as _Touché_.

“Aw shit, the TD is on _fire.”_ She sees Ruby leaning on Amethyst, surely drunk out of her mind, and in hysterics. “Jas, you need this more than I do.” She clumsily glides her drink to Jasper, who stubbornly snatches it and takes a generous swill.

“Okay, but seriously, _Rose?_ Isn’t she married?”

“She has a kid too.”

“Well, sorry, _Your Honor._ Didn’t realize I was at court.” The stagehand practically slams her empty bottle on the table before crossing her arms. “Besides, it was a long time ago. I didn’t even know she had gotten married.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Oh fuck you.”

The rest of the night goes relatively smooth—if incoherent laughter and occasional face-eating could be considered smooth. At one point she might’ve made eye contact with Lapis, and she might’ve found her looking back, but to be fair, she was so lost in the intoxicated atmosphere that she might have imagined it. When the casual chatter turned into obnoxious yells of encouragement, Peridot knew it was time to slip away.

“I’m not drunk enough for this. Call me when we leave.” She waves at Jasper, who only bunglingly nods her head in acknowledgement. She was in the middle of an arm wrestling contest with the fiery pyrotechnic, and she knew it would only end badly. She stood up and swiftly made her way to the door, doing her best to not step on some poor fool’s limbs as she walked out.  

The change of atmosphere is a godsend; fresh, if not chilly, but definitely much more quiet than inside the bar. She did not need more screaming than was necessary—she had to deal with that shit at work already. She leans against the wall next to the door and pulls out her phone, settling on distracting herself from the nagging in her head. The silence lasts a couple of minutes until the wooden opens and the noise escapes through the opening, making the technician’s head turn.

* * *

 Perhaps encouraging the fight wasn’t the smartest idea, Lapis had to admit, but it was definitely something to see; except things began to go downhill when insults began to be thrown. Lapis decided it wasn’t worth observing the havoc unfolding in front of her—she was used to this kind of things at work, but they were in public, and it was just plain embarrassing.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air. Sapphire, keep an eye on them, would you?”

“You two are just _gone_!” The shorter actress sighs, but nods without complaint, as she ‘confiscates’ Ruby’s bottle and stops Amethyst from falling over. It was certainly a sight to admire, but the smoke coming from some douchebag’s cigarette was beginning to get to her. She gracefully eludes elbows and drinks until she reaches the door, before pushing it open and stepping out into the night.

The first thing she does it breathe in, because wow, is the air different. She carefully leans against the lattice of the porch, ignoring the couples making out, and the persistent flickering of the streetlight at the end of the boulevard. She felt at ease, for once—even though the show was in less than three days now—but she paid it no mind. It was nice of Jasper to get everyone together, since everyone was having such a hard time focusing. She refused to admit she was having that problem too. Her thoughts wander to the cause of her distraction. What an interesting word to use, she thought. She still wonders what caused her to launch at the technician like that.

“Did a fight break out?” She feels something lean against the lattice next to her, and almost laughs at the irony.

“Probably. I left before it could.” She ventures to glance at the technician, and she finds the other isn’t looking at her. Instead, she seems somewhat pensive, with eyes lost somewhere down the street. A silence she carefully predicted settles in, and she tries her best to go back to that feeling of ease. She can feel Peridot breathe in from the way her arms shift when her torso expands, and she figures the excruciating amount of detail she notices is completely unnecessary. It’s dumb. It really is; they’ve never had a proper conversation aside from the heated encounters and suggestive comments, and it was painfully obvious neither of them knew what to say. She figures it is Peridot’s fault, but she had part of the blame for going on with it. She shakily breathes out and ignores the uneasiness setting in her gut.

“Really, you have nothing to say.”

“I’m sorry?” Lapis manages a side glare, while the technician raises an eyebrow.

“You’re just gonna stay there, not talking. After everything that happened.”

“Well, sorry for not wanting to _incite_ you.” She snaps her head up, making Peridot draw back without losing her stand. “Y’know, since every time I do I risk getting sexually harassed.”

“Oh _please_ , don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” Peridot stammers briefly before choosing to stay silent, making the actress gleam in triumph. “But you know…” She began, taking a step forward, “It seems to me you’re trying to incite me  _on purpose._ ”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Am I, though?” Her eyes flicker to the exposed flesh of the technician’s neck, making her reach for the collar of her flannel instinctively to cover it. Lapis grins and places a hand on Peridot’s chest, as if to test her. This one breathes in deeply and looks down at the actress hand before taking a hold of her wrist and slowly bringing it down, making Lapis’ hand glide down her torso—whether the techie did this on purpose or not, she doesn’t know. “I guess you’re right,” Lapis takes a step back and regains her position leaning on the latticework, “I don’t think you can handle our little _game_.”

Something inside of Peridot cracks, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her face twists into a snarl; eyes growing cold, and maybe it’s the booze, but Lapis swears she can make out fangs glistening in the otherwise dim atmosphere.

“It means I’m simply too much for you.” This time is Peridot who decides to act bold by fully stepping into Lapis’ ‘personal bubble’ and nearly pushing her back a few steps.

“Are you implying I can’t handle the likes of you?”

“Precisely,” The actress stands her ground and turns to face Peridot, who stands inches away from her face, “Unless you can prove me wrong, of course.” The silence settles in, neither of them moving, and the only sound is the erratic breathing coming from the blonde, who scans the actress up and down with her eyes. She lets out a gasp when Peridot snakes her arms around her waist, but doesn’t settle on her hips. Instead, she grips the lattice behind her, caging Lapis against it and her chest. Lapis naturally wraps her hands around Peridot’s wrists, but doesn’t push her back. For a second she’s back at the auditorium, feeling the blonde’s hot breath on her skin and a little helpless but not really. She could flip their position entirely if she wanted, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She wanted to push the techie to her limit again, to see if she would finish what she started. So she waited; she dropped her head but watched her closely, becoming painfully aware that the other’s eyes were everywhere _but_ her face. She cautiously slides her hands up to rest on Peridot’s forearms, and then up to her shoulders; stopping right above her exposed collarbone.

“So all I have to do…” She feels Peridot breathe in beneath the palm of her hands and looks up to meet green. Yet the green is a hundred hues darker than they should be; still cold, still ominous, but not any less captivating. “…Is prove it to you.” She whispers into Lapis’ hair before gradually moving down to the actress' neck and biting into her skin. Lapis responds immediately, gasping and holding her lip between her teeth before inhaling. Peridot glides the flat of her tongue over the newly formed mark before biting down again and sucking her way up the actress’ ear, the same way Lapis had done that one time. She tightens her hold on the techie’s flannel before closing her eyes, breathless. She hated how much she _liked_ _it._ So this is how it must’ve felt like, huh? She tries her best to keep quiet but Peridot just keeps biting and she _knows_ this is going way over plain revenge. She bites down on her tongue when she feels a hand creeping its way under her shirt and _goddamn_ her hands are cold. The feeling makes her muscle tense and her breath hitch, but she’s not about to give up _now._ She tries to inch her hands _lower_ but Peridot grabs a hold of them and grips them firmly over the edge of the lattice, retraining any further movement. She moves away from the actress’ neck for a second, “What was that about being too much?”

“D-Don’t you think you’ve had your revenge already?” She manages between breaths.

“I’ll decide when we’re even.” She kisses her way up to Lapis’ ear before moving to her jaw and stopping at the corner of her lips, before moving back. “Unless you’ve given up?”

“Not quite.” She catches her breath and licks her lips.

“You’ll have to wait for next time.” Peridot moves away from her and suddenly it is way too cold for her liking. Her heart is bursting out of her chest, but she covers it by inhaling slowly, painstakingly so. The technician begins to turn but is stopped by a pull on her sleeve, and when she turns back the mood ultimately shifts, because the look Lapis is giving her is definitely _not_ human. She backs away until she’s met with the wall and in a matter of seconds her positions are swapped, and the actress does _not_ look happy. That feral look is there again and sweat threatens to trickle down Peridot’s neck, but she’s already pressed completely against the wall of the building, with Lapis’ knee firmly between her legs. _Oh so she’s getting back at me for this too?_ She notices that something is different. Perhaps the air, or the ambiance, because it’s quiet; unbelievably so. As if they were alone in the world, and she knows that’s just an exaggeration but she can’t help for _feel_ everything tenfold and her ears are ringing and she might be just a little drunk. But it doesn’t matter because Lapis is getting closer and for some reason she just doesn’t feel as bold as she did seconds ago.

“Maybe we don’t have to wait that long.” The actress is practically breathing the same air as her now, and she thinks of a way of escaping but her limbs don’t respond. In fact, they twitch. Almost in anticipation, even. She hadn’t realized how deep the actress’ eyes were, maybe because she was so concerned with eye contact—still is, but it’s really hard to look at something else when she’s doing that thing with her lips and if she stares at them for too long she might just lose it. Her mischief is completely forgotten, and she feels like she’s on fire; her face is burning—then again, so is Lapis’—her knees are shaking and her heart’s beating like she just ran a motherfucking marathon when all she did was _suck on a girl’s_ neck. And _damn_ does she want to close that gap but the crew will come out any minute now and she has no way to explain the _bruises_ on the actress’ neck, much less why she had her tongue down her throat. That’d be too much to bear. Though in all fairness, it wouldn’t surprise her if Jasper was somehow involved into that mess—she had read right through Peridot the first time she encountered Lapis. Wait, did she say tongue down her throat?

“Lazuli, don’t do anything you’ll regre—mph!” It occurs to Lapis that shoving your tongue down someone’s throat is a very efficient way to shut them up. Any other day she might’ve teased the techie, but she was too worked up for that, so she settled for holding Peridot’s wrists against the wall and sucking her tongue into her mouth. The blonde, on the heat of trying to catch up, holds the other’s bottom lip between her teeth, pulling tenderly—a little too softly for Lapis’ liking, but she wasn’t complaining—before gliding her tongue inside the actress’ mouth, over her teeth and across her lips. At this point she was so intoxicated with Lapis’ taste of booze and salt that she didn’t care if they got caught. Lapis reflexively lifts her knee and Peridot breathes out this—this wonderful little noise that’s not vocal enough to be a moan, but a breathless grunt, and Lapis takes the chance to release her wrists and bury her hands in the blonde’s hair. She pulls gently, and now released hands creep their way up her shirt, and stop right above the waist line, setting comfortably on her hips. It doesn’t take long until one of them feels the need to breathe, and it turns out to be Lapis, who looks up at the techie, only to find her eyes clouded with what she assumes is want, need, lust. Hundreds of possibilities pop up but none of them say ‘stop’. They’re both breathing heavily, but neither of them break away; both frozen in their positon. Peridot’s hands remained flushed against Lapis’ hips, nearly radiating heat, while the actress ran her fingers through the other’s locks, occasionally gripping and pulling. The calm was familiar, intimate; and for once the silence is not unwelcomed.

“Lapis…” Peridot murmurs her name softly, and the actress comes to the conclusion she rather enjoys the way her name rolls out of the technician’s mouth. She calmly removes her hands from Peridot’s hair—that was currently in complete disarray—and the blonde takes the cue to do so too; palms trailing ever so slightly from the warmth of Lapis’ midsection.

“Wait,” She stops and her hands linger on the rim of her hips, while Lapis brings her own hands to rest on the other’s wrists. She was…encouraging her to trail _upwards_. The heated confidence is immediately replaced with awkward uncertainty on both accounts. The tension and frustration were satisfied, what else is there? What was drawing them in? Eye contact suddenly becomes _too much_ , which is rather ridiculous, considering they practically just ate each other’s faces off. Lapis’ head drops as she looks down at her, suddenly very interesting, shoes, and Peridot distracts herself with the irritating flickering of the damaged sodium lamp. When they both catch their breath Lapis looks back up, almost…pleading, and doubtful? She seemed _nervous_ , as if she was about to do something more _intimate_ than what they had done, which, in Peridot’s opinion, was very unlikely—unless she was into _that._ She blushes at the sudden thought, and quickly diverts her eyes. Lapis curiously looks at her, eyes hidden behind disheveled blue bangs before guiding the other’s chin towards her with her hand.

The second kiss is much more predicted, and Peridot is able to properly prepare herself, but it's also much more serene…soothing almost. Lips on lips instead of desperate teeth and tongues, the two take their time to enjoy the warmth of the other’s steady breathing. They move slowly, looking for a comfortable line up, and eventually fall into an even pace; nibbling every so often and teasing the other’s tongue with short rubs. Lapis lets Peridot lead for a change and this one takes the chance to fondle the actress’ bottom lip with her tongue, and slipping it between parted lips. One of them whimpers, and they each think it’s the other, and at one point they forget to breathe and gasp for air before pressing their lips together again. They fumble a little, but neither of them notices. In fact, they don’t notice how much it is escalating and by the time Peridot’s ears stop ringing she’s brought back to reality by a hoarse whimper, a mewl that reminds her that they’re in fact, _still in public_. She pulls back for a second and her eyes widen because when the _hell_ did her hand get there? Her eyes flicker from her hands underneath Lapis’ shirt to her eyes a couple of times until she concludes Lapis’ eyes are the safest to look at. Her pupils almost make the blue of her irises disappear within a pond of coal, and she can make out the girl’s extensive blush in the darkness. She knows there are light freckles amid the other’s cheeks but the light, or rather, lack thereof, makes them almost impossible to admire. Peridot breathes out, and eventually removes her hands from the other’s shirt. She ignores the fact they instantly grow cold and shivery, but it might just be her quivery nerves. Likewise, Lapis takes her hands away from Peridot’s flannel and shoves them into her jean pockets, that in reality do very little to keep her warm.

Neither one speak. They just breathe in the other’s scent, their character, and take in the previous series of events. Both take it very differently; where Lapis finds a peculiar—yet not particularly unpleasant—afterglow that leaves her tingly and in a haze, Peridot comes back to her senses violently. A wall of bricks slam into her chest and it feels tight. She tries her best to steady her breathing but it becomes overwhelming, to the point she acts purely by instinct. She slips away from the figurative embrace and practically runs to the door of the bar, without a single word, leaving Lapis alone with her equally agitated thoughts.

* * *

 Back inside is significantly warmer—boiling, even—but she knows it’s just her and she prays to every God that is looking down at her for her blush to diminish before she reaches the table; except the table is not entirely _whole_. She doesn’t trust her voice, so she lets out a puzzled noise from the back of her throat as she looks around for the one responsible for the mess. She sees a crowd gathering around something she can’t exactly make out, but she had an idea of what the possible commotion might be. She spots a flock of white hair and a stumbles upon a red headband long forgotten on the floor and mentally slaps herself for leaving those reckless idiots by themselves. Though to be fair, she wasn’t really sure she was ready to _regret_ leaving the bar in the first place.

“Sapphire! What is going on?!” Peridot turns to the sound of Lapis’ voice. She had walked in seconds ago, seemingly much more composed, and was trying—and perhaps failing—to figure out what was going on.

“I tried to stop them. I really did. But Ruby is just so damn stubborn.” The shorter actress replies almost coolly, but Peridot could make out the exasperation in her voice. Peridot made her way to the crowd and identified the issue; it was a sparring match between two drunken stagehands. Both looked heavily injured, but paid their wounds no mind, being too engrossed in their little ‘dogfight’. The rest of the crew seemed to be having a blast cheering their respective fighters on instead of calling it off like responsible adults, but she guessed it was to be expected of intoxicated individuals in this kind of environment. Her own drunken state of mind forgotten, she made her way to the table and grabbed a hold of a bucket of ice used to keep champagne, and dunked it over Ruby and Jasper, who looked just as surprised as everyone else.

“Alright inebriated fools, get your asses off the floor and your wallets out; you’ve got to pay for this shit.” Jasper visibly growled, but reluctantly got on her feet and helped Ruby up, while this one was overrun by Sapphire who tried her best to clean the blood of her lover’s face. The rest of the crew whined and briefly protested before dissipating and apologizing to the staff members. She glanced one last time at Lapis before helping a limping Jasper and swiftly removing her keys from her pocket.

“See, Jasper? This is why we can’t have nice things.” The stagehand breathed out a rumbling noise that she took as a bark, but wouldn’t manage anything coherent. The technician sighed. It was definitely going to be a long night.

It was definitely worth it, though. Except for the particular fist fight, and broken table Peridot had to pay—Jasper was too drunk to deal with financial affairs, and she personally refused to reach into her pocket in case the carpenter took it as some sort of assault—but those were minor things. _Minor?_ _Get your priorities straight, TD._ Perhaps not entirely minor things, but she had to admit—though she hated to do so—that she wouldn’t have it any other way. It was still overwhelming, and she still had to figure out how to deal with…whatever _that_ was. She had originally thought it was a game, but that second kiss was…it had meant something else. It must have. She couldn’t shake out the thought that maybe, just maybe, Lapis wasn’t _playing around_. It looked, felt too real. Lapis looked genuinely uncertain. Lapis fucking Lazuli had hesitated. And Peridot was the cause of that doubt. That reluctance…that was all her, and she didn’t know what to do about it. In her head she sounded like a conflicted teenager with a somewhat required crush, with the words ‘ _what are we?’_ constantly playing on a loop over and over. She was so distracted she didn’t notice getting into the car, much less arriving at her destination. She didn’t even notice saying good night to _anyone_. Maybe she was the one that was too intoxicated. Though all things considered, in her current agitated state, she’s thankful she didn’t have to deal with any conversations, because she knew she wouldn’t have been able to pull them off.

And best of all, she had to deal with Lapis tomorrow morning. Now _that_ seemed like a problem all on its own.


	7. Call One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final day of rehearsal, and the title becomes relevant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I did say Tuesday, but in my defense I never specified WHICH Tuesday. (I'm just a pitiful sophomore that turned sixteen 9 days ago, please don't be mad at me) I'll stay true to my word and make the last chapter lengthy. Will it come out next tuesday? will it come out 6 months from now? Who knows. Certainly not me.
> 
> Also, I'm pleasantly surprised this reached 2K hits. (Y'know, being my first fic and all) so I'm kind of speechless? Thank you (for what feels like the hundredth time) for everything, and hopefully the wait won't be too difficult.

The week had become an endless countdown, a score she had to keep track of, and a sum she had to decipher. From the moment she woke up to the second she entered her key into the keyhole of her door it was an endless launch procedure; as if her frame of thought ran binary codes up and down while she tried to stabilize settings of audio and illumination. It was exhausting, and utterly aggravating. She could feel the never ending tension that emitted from the actors and stage workers; the stress, nerves, dread, everything. Instead of humorous affliction, it was flagrant anguish and concern. _Would things work out just fine?_ That was a question that ran continuously through the crew’s mind but occasionally in her head. She wondered if it was hubris or honest self-confidence, but in all fairness, she knew her distress was not due to her lack of skill (one could argue there was nothing to worry about) but because of the change of atmosphere. It was so _serious_. And her mind couldn’t stop wandering to the night before, to the point where she would find herself zoning out in the middle of rehearsal when she knew this was the _last day._ Yet it was different somehow;

She wasn’t daydreaming. She was anxious. Uncertain. She couldn’t concentrate.

So she did what she thought was the best course of action; she grew distant.

She figured that distracting herself would allow her to do her job, but it was getting difficult, and she knew it was her mistake for going through with it even when she had foreseen the outcome. If there is a change of attitude, nobody notices, for nobody was that observant—or they were too distracted with their own affairs enough to do so. She knew she couldn’t keep at it forever, though. She knew she’d have to confront her about it, but she also knew doing so right before a show was definitely not the best idea. Especially if it was the leading role she was dealing with. She knew Lapis was not the most emotionally stable person, and on more than one occasion, she felt like she was walking on eggshells around her. She wouldn’t have cared at first. She found delight in bringing her mischief, but she had underestimated her; she wasn’t as fragile as she had predicted—much to her dismay—she was, in fact, much stronger, and much more headstrong that she liked to admit. She had twisted their little game beautifully, and now she was the one between the sword and the wall. Somewhere deep within her subconscious, she didn’t mind—not that she would admit that.

She’s brought back to the auditorium with a sudden crash. Equipment. Needed to tomorrow. Her eyebrows furrow and she on the feet at the speed of light, fussing over the noise. Leaning over the window, she catches Jasper hurrying over to the commotion, howling profanities and guttural noises and for a moment she feels proud that her second in command has grown to respect the costly equipment she was so fond of.

“Peridot!” She predicts it, and by the time she hears her name she’s already at the bottom of the stairs glaring vehemently at the possible culprit.

She nearly groans out loud at the sight of royal blue resting gracefully over soft features with raised eyebrows and conspicuous innocence. The last thing she needed was to scold the same dark eyes that haunted her.

She settles with a stern look, and tries to transfer her displeasure, but the moment she makes eye contact she notices something is wrong. Lapis looks… _proud?_ She can’t quite place it, but she in no way feels remorse. In fact, she can almost, _almost_ spot a smug grin creeping from the corner of her lips. Like a cocky feline displaying their mess proudly and nonchalantly. _What is she trying to do?_ She wonders, but decides on holding her gaze until it becomes too much to bear. The rest of the group seems to notice the hostility and gradually begins to ditch the fuss. They had better things to do anyway, she assumes. She breathes out and leans over the fallen LED spot, checking for any serious damage beyond repair. Finding none (for which she was tremendously grateful) she crouches to pick up the rather heavy stand of the light system, which was miraculously intact—last time this had happened the stand was so bent they had to work with a set of lights at least five feet lower than the original height; it was a miracle none of the actors were blinded or burned beyond recognition. She knew she was exaggerating, but she had experienced light burns of her own and she was not keen on recalling that memory.

“Here, let me…” Lapis trails off as she bends down to pick up the metal pole and pulls it up to its original position. Peridot pulls a chair from the side of the stage and drags it next to the LED light, before standing on it to check on the cable setting behind it. She sighs when she finds no irredeemable mangle that could threaten the performance of the illumination, and swiftly hops to the ground. Lapis looks away from the technician’s grim look, almost shrinking away from it, but only for a second. As if remembering her role, she holds her gaze somewhat proudly, as if trying to prove something. For this Peridot is confused. What she was trying to prove the blonde could not figure out for the life of her, so she simply shoves her hands inside her pocket and turns to the hallway leading back to the control room. They were back at it again, it seemed; as if yesterday had not happened. And she wasn’t sure if she was glad or not. To be quite honest, she was happy she didn’t have to worry about Lapis’ hungry gaze following her around or mentally stripping her. It was nice for a change, but a little part of her mind deemed it as bizarre. She ignored that part.

She made her way to the control room, sitting down in front of her work bench that was back to its original composition. She didn’t have to worry about running everything today, and for that she was eternally grateful. Jasper was indeed hungover, but it wasn’t something the large woman couldn’t handle. Though she did relish herself at the sound of a grunt or complaint, for it was rather entertaining. On the other side of the control room, Sour Cream sat idly behind a soundboard texting relentlessly; behavior Peridot would scold at on any normal day, but today she let him be. She wasn’t one to set double standards if she herself was distracted. She pulled the sleeves of her flannel up to her elbows and began testing her dimmers and busying herself with the feedback of the microphones. The theatre group was running scenes without the technicality to double check their dependency on the sound cues; it was more of a established and traditional practice than an efficient one. It helped the actors become familiar with their mental cues as well as physical, and it overall helped them recall their entrances. In other words; it was the tech crew’s break for the time being and Peridot was not taking it for granted.

* * *

 Lapis leaped from one side of the stage to the other flowingly, almost like a river over a stone. She had her steps memorized, carved into her skin; marks that glowed bright blue in the darkness, like keys that were only visible in her mind guiding her through the black board. She was in her element, both literally and figuratively, for she had given up her fear long ago. She could somewhat thank her technician for engaging in their little scheme. Peridot had brought out parts of her she didn’t know she was hiding; a confident, suave self, eager for action. It was either that, or she was so pleasantly preoccupied that she hadn’t bothered paying much mind to her own self-doubts, which was as equally acceptable. It seemed kind of surreal to know that tomorrow was show night. She was used to the procedure, of course, but it never stopped feeling hypnagogic. As if it was all just one big illusion that would end when the curtain fell and then she’d wake up. It wasn’t the first time she had felt like this. But then again, other times she wasn’t distressed about a certain techie giving her the cold shoulder.  She really wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. It was all a big game, right? Except games didn’t end in near heart spills. She didn’t know what came over her, in all honesty. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, or the smell of Peridot’s flannel, or the depth and color of her eyes, something was the trigger. She had probably scared her off, which would explain her quick escape. In the sane part of her brain she felt guilty, but a part hidden beneath the surface, away from her morally correct frame of thought, she was feeling especially selfish. She was not about to deny she had enjoyed it. She would be lying to her to such an extent she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. Not like she could, anyway, but she liked to dream.

She almost misses the steps and twirls hastily on her toes, making a quick and graceful recovery, but it does not go unnoticed by Pearl, who eyes at her suspiciously. She stops spinning and she finds herself a couple of feet away from the original spot. She groans and stomps back to the initial mark on the stage. The markings weren’t removed until the last rehearsal, which in reality was tonight, yet she knew she didn’t really have a problem remembering her steps. She just needed to clear her head.

As all technical rehearsals before the big show, she had to wear her costume, as hot and itchy as it was. She never dared question Sadie on the material, since she only followed the design and notes from the playwright, and most writers were prone to use cheap materials to save on technical equipment. Or at least, that’s what she thought. For all she knew, the itchy and hot material was the universal texture for all theatre costumes. She glanced back at the other actresses, who looked quite fidgety to say the least. Sapphire seemed collected for the most part, but Lapis could make out sweat trickling down the side of her face. She never understood why she refused to brush her bangs off her face.

 Lapis made her way down from the stage, murmuring something along the lines of ‘taking a break’ or ‘gonna get water’ but it was so incomprehensible that some just took it as if she was done trying to fix her mistake, which again, wasn’t so far off either. The auditorium was void of chatter and bickering, sign that the tension was there, and that nobody was willing to mess up so far into tech week, yet it felt alien to her. The constant bickering soothed her; it acted as calming background noise that abstracted her from unsettling thoughts of failure. But now everything was so…serious. Footsteps echoed down the hall, deep behind backstage, away from the audience. That was some feeling she couldn’t shake off; the feeling of being watched, but unlike its eerie, paranormal cousin, this feeling was more expectant. As if the audience was always there, waiting, looking forward to something— _Her_. It was unnerving at most, and she wasn’t sure if it was something she could use to her advantage—twist the feeling around, if you would—or if it would lead to her downfall. That, she did not know.

She ignores her echoing footsteps until she reaches the changing rooms. There, she becomes painfully aware of somebody watching her. She doesn’t even bother guessing who it might be. There’s only one person at the reach of the changing rooms right when she takes a break. She ignores the other’s gaze nonetheless. She takes a sip of her water bottle as she leans against the door of the changing room, occasionally gazing back at her spectator. Peridot wouldn’t budge. She simply sat at the bottom of the staircase, resting her head on her open palm with a somewhat somber expression. Rehearsal for the tech crew hadn’t been the most exciting, except for the LED light fiasco.

Ah, that was something to think about.

Had she done it on purpose? That was debatable, but it helped her figure out what she longed for. She wanted to make Peridot angry. Was that strange? She wasn’t entirely certain. It was the same rush she felt when the techie was embarrassed, just amplified. She wasn’t done with their little game, was she? She wondered as she made her way back to the stage, ignoring the pair of eyes burning holes into her skull. It felt somewhat mundane, like a routine. It had to end at some point. Tomorrow was the last day, technically. She wanted to make it last.

She looked back at the staircase, only to find it vacant. Peridot had probably gone up while Lapis was distracted. She allowed herself to relax, for it was better to practice without the pressure of having to confront Peridot about everything later. She knew she had to, but she would take her time. The last thing she needed was to make things even harder for the show night.

\--

“What do you mean it’s not working? I thought I had taken care of it last week.”

“You better check it for yourself; the riggers refuse to go up there if it’s broken.”

“You can’t be serious. They’re riggers, they practically live up there!” Jasper shrugged, it wasn’t really her department, but she understood the other’s point. Those kids were used to doing stunts like those all the time. It was odd for them to be _scared_ of climbing up. Peridot resigns. She takes off her flannel and quickly makes her way to the stage, where Buck and Jenny were sitting, looking rather uneasy.

“It was wiggling, Peridot. _Wiggling._ I’m not going up there again.” Jenny was utterly terrified, and Buck didn’t look any better.

“Alright, let’s see what the issue is.” Peridot made her way towards the base of the fly system—the cause of their problems—and tied herself to the counterweight. “Jasper, make sure this is steady.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time?” She tenses up.

“We don’t talk about last time.” She doesn’t allow any protest, because she begins pulling herself up immediately. The riggers were right at least. The fly system was as steady as the group maneuvering it. It took her a while to fix herself upon the loading grid, but when she managed to do it, she found the problem; a runaway counterweight.

“Riggers, get to the lines, there’s a faulty counterweight.” They quickly make their way to the hemp, steadily gripping the ropes and pulling with precision. Eventually, the grid stops shaking, and the counterweight is back in its place. She swiftly glides down and hands the rope to Jasper, who stood there mildly amused.

“Show off.” Peridot only huffs.

“I learn from my mistakes.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want you to be more than forty percent metal. Ow.” The stagehand evades a second elbow and quickly makes her way to the stage, awaiting instructions of some sort, leaving Peridot alone. It wasn’t that she was scared. She didn’t let it bother her too much, but it was prone to happen, and it could happen again. No one could be too sure. She unwittingly tugs at her fingerless gloves, remembering the unpleasant feeling. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t over it.

“You’re quite the climber, huh?” She turns to see her favorite actress leaning nonchalantly against the wall, arms crossed over her chest.

“More than I care to admit.” She doesn’t bother turning her whole body, settling for looking over her shoulder. Lapis seem contemplative for a second before pushing herself off the wall and walking towards her. _Fantastic._

“Look I…I wanted to apologize.” _Well that’s odd._ That makes Peridot turn around rather hastily, making Lapis draw back. She continues, “I shouldn’t have…done something I’d regret.” Her stomach drops and she swears there’s something physically stopping her from talking. “The whole thing was rather impulsive and uncalled for, and—”

“Lapis, it’s fine.” She coughs out, managing to swallow the knot of sand and cloth clogging her throat. The actress is visibly taken aback, blinking a couple of times before nodding slowly. _Oh right, you called her Lapis._ Her voice sounds restrained, and she’s surprised at her own words, “You don’t have to think too much of it. It was just a game, right?” A familiar silence settles in after she says that, and she can tell Lapis looks rather uncomfortable. She finally clears her throat, “Yeah, well…I’ll talk to you later.” And this time, Lapis doesn’t stop her. Instead, she walks back unhurried, swallowing her own mess of nerves, and trying to make her lip not quiver too much. She didn’t know what she was expecting. Was she expecting something like ‘I want this to be a real thing’ or ‘I’m done playing games’? She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t. But it was what it was, and she had to be happy with it. But she wasn’t.

When Peridot reaches the control room, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. It was restraining, suffocating even. It pained her to say that, but she had to stay true to herself. She wasn’t about to show she had thought it was serious. She needed to play along, for her own sake. She rested her face on her hands and breathed deeply. The knot was still there, threatening to burst out into a sob. It was so _frustrating_ , but it was different than the starting frustration. At first it was trying to address the flagrant sexual tension, but now…now she wanted to make sense out of it. Maybe it wasn’t just the overwhelming nerves of the show, or the infuriating stress of rehearsal. It could’ve been something _more._ How would she know?

“No use taking it back now…”

“Take what back?” She finds Jasper leaning over her, arms folded over the backrest.

“Everything.”  

“Now, don’t get melancholic with me, Peridot. We’ve talked about this.” Peridot quickly finds herself being pressed against her chair by a pair of hands holding tightly onto her shoulders, “It is not the end of the world, and certainly not the end of the week, so if you wanna get all gloomy and shit do it after the show’s done.” She baffles at Jasper’s way of showing moral support. But she was thankful nonetheless.

“It’s not that easy…”

“What, did you propose to her or somethin’?” Jasper only laughs at Peridot’s astonished face, but a nervous gaze makes her stop. “I’m kidding. Please don’t tell me you did.”

She stammers, “N-No, that’s not it.” The stagehand raises an eyebrow expectantly, “we just kissed.”

“You kissed.” She nods, and much to Peridot’s dismay, Jasper presses on, making her turn her head to hide her blush. “And now I’m guessing you’re trying to figure out if it _meant_ something, like those dumb romantic novels Pearl reads.” She nods again, feeling a little offended, but she doesn’t call her out.

“At first it was kind of…desperate?” She opts to keep the details to herself, judging by Jasper’s surprised look, but still continues, “We were drunk, horny, and overall pitiful, so it was rather predictable.” The taller of the two makes a series of hand gestures, urging her on over the unnecessary details, and Peridot clears her throat, “But then...it got more intimate. I don’t even know anymore. I thought we were just fooling around. It was overwhelming.”

“And that’s why you’re avoiding her.” She nods one last time, feeling slightly vulnerable. “So? Have you asked her where you stand?” Her stomach flips drastically, in a not-so-pleasant way, as she remembers her conversation with the actress that hadn’t happened that long ago.

“She made it very clear to me a couple of minutes ago. She apologized, deeming her behavior as ‘impulsive’.” She purposely emphasizes the word with her fingers, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “And I just played along instead of being straightforward. Is this the end of it?”

“You’re out of your mind if you really think some senseless wooing is going to ruin your show.” She ignores Peridot’s glare and continues, “I suggest being honest with her and confront her about it, unless you’re too much of a wimp to do it.” Yeah, she was waiting for the insult.

“I—I’ll see what I can do. I’d prefer not bumping into her for the time being.” Jasper only shrugs, patting Peridot on the back and making her way downstairs without any remarks, which Peridot finds unusual. She supposes that Jasper was trying to be considerate for once in her life, though she finds the thought ridiculous. She sinks into her chair and stares mindlessly at the ceiling of the control room. Thoughts spread like wildfire through her mental circuitry; like electricity through wiring. It becomes automatic, so she spaces out, finding comfort in overthinking. She doesn’t notice the rehearsal in front of her—it was almost second rehearsal and they hadn’t bothered taking the three hour break, deciding on practicing through the evening. She knew she needed to snap out of it, but she didn’t want to face the reality that when she came back she’d have to fix her _issues_. As if on cue (wording she personally finds rather ironic) she hears her name, which makes her look down from the large window. She finds Pearl staring back at her, expectant; they were ready to practice with the technical team now. Peridot sends a quick glance at her co-worker, who looks up from his phone and brushes his headphones off his ears and around his neck. He gives her thumbs up, and she returns it with a firm nod.

It didn’t take long before Pearl stopped the run, going on about a small mistake that was “crucial to the entirety that was the production.” Peridot didn’t pay much mind to it; instead, her gaze shifted from every actor, observing their reactions to being ‘scolded’ for what felt like the hundredth time. Some looked bored, annoyed, while others genuinely terrified, or disappointed. Her eyes landed on the blue-haired actress in more than one occasion. She wasn’t looking for most if the time, but she could make out a time or two in which Lapis’ curious gaze landed on the window of the control room, coincidentally meeting hers. Yet, she didn’t hold her gaze for long, but simply looked away, without a single trace of emotion. Something definitely changed, and Peridot wasn’t sure if she was pleased with it or not. She breathed out, settling on tuning out the lecture, and looking down at her phone. The light of her screen makes her squint for a minute until she finally gets used to it, and she reads six o'clock at the top right corner of the device.

_Two more hours,_ she thought, but she wasn’t as excited for rehearsal to be over as she would normally be. She had to make things happen today, otherwise she’d lose her cool tomorrow, and it definitely wasn’t the right time to do so. She makes a mental note to see Lapis right at the end of rehearsal, a note she almost immediately regrets. What was she going to say? “I’m scared of commitment but I can’t stand the thought of going back to being complete strangers?” she’d cross that bridge when she gets to it.

* * *

She was, in one word, restless. So incredibly restless she almost felt paranoid; looking over her shoulder every so often, pulling at her dress and hair, Lapis was anxious. Second rehearsal was almost over, and her own insecurities practically cascaded into her subconscious. This time she had no way of distracting herself. The markings were removed, and for a second she feels like they were metaphors for something else—a guide, help, directions—she was alone now, but that wasn’t exactly true. She was the leading role, and she did have supports, but all that attention was staggering, and it crushed her lungs. She took deep breathes to calm herself, which in all honesty did very little to calm her down. _What the hell is wrong with you, you should be used to this!_ She practically screams at herself, unconsciously scratching at her arms as she wraps them around herself. Her breathing becomes erratic, uneven, like trying to breathe between the spaces in which a wave crashes against a cliff. She swears she feels water begin to pool at her feet, leaving a chain-like sensation around her ankles. The water rises and she’s drowning but she’s still breathing raggedly—as if no air was coming in, instead, just gallons of water pushing against her throat and eye sockets. Her body shakes, and she’s thankful she’s inside the changing room and not making a scene out on stage, because when the water flows back into its metaphorical drain she’s a mess of fear and sweat.

“L?” A single knock on the door and she recognizes the voice as Amethyst’s (not to mention she was the only one that called her that). She tries to collect herself; wiping the tears that threatened to fall and run her hands through her hair in an attempt to make herself look presentable. She looks at herself in the mirror, remembering how much she hated her reflection, but pushing through to take a look at her face. Her eyes are not red or puffy enough to raise suspicion, but her hair is a mess and her face is pale and she looks like she’s seen a ghost with water pouring out of its eyes. Eyes wide, jaw fixed, and she can make out sweat trailing down the side of her neck, sticking her bangs to her face. She quickly brushes them away, mumbling a weak ‘I’m coming’ before unlocking the door and faking a smile.

Amethyst sees straight through it.

“You okay there? I can tell P to give you some time—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about me, I’ll be…” She hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath, “...fine.” The carpenter looked unconvinced, but she didn’t press on. Instead, she gave the actress a slow nod before making her way to the stage.

“Hey, L.” Amethyst doesn’t turn around, only stops. Lapis breathes in.

“Yes?”

“Don’t think of it too much, will ya? You’ll do great.” With that, she’s gone and Lapis is left there torn between a feeling of reassurance and one of heartache and suddenly _not thinking of it too much_ becomes nearly impossible. She doesn’t follow the carpenter straight away. She waits a little, eyes unwittingly searching for a familiar shadow making its way down the stairs, but she finds nothing. She was in no state to face her anyway, she was too shaken. Surely not the best psychological state to act in, but it wasn’t something she hadn’t done, or felt before. She hears Pearl do a roll call from the audience and her walk speeds up to a jog, swiftly gliding along the curtain and standing at the end of the line, hopeful that no one had seen her. The only people that turn to look at her surprised are Amethyst and Sadie, and both give her a knowing look. She tries her best to smile, pretend she’s really okay, but it comes out strained. The two crew members smile, a genuine, comforting smile and for a second she’s actually okay. Or at least knows she will be.

“Ah, good, you’re here.” Pearl quickly flashes a smile of her own and continues counting the cast. “Alright, the theater group is here. Running crew you may begin making your way down.” Lapis looks around nervously, catching the members of the tech unit walking casually down the stairs and into the stage by size (which she would find humorous if it wasn’t for her mental state.) She catches the technical director’s gaze for a split second, before the blonde looks away, rubbing the back of her neck. Jasper just gives her a somewhat toothy grin and the ‘so-nicknamed-cool kids’ wave and smile. She finds it rather comforting; the familiar feel of working with the same group for a long time. The technical crew was temporary, that was certain, but it felt as if she had known them forever, and it had only been a couple of months.

“Listen up, crew. As you all know, tomorrow’s show night.” Pearl speaks loud and clear, standing proudly in front of everyone, sort of like a knight. An image of the director wearing armor and a helm as she wields a sword flashes through her head, making her grin. It was common for her, _or_ Rose to make speeches on the last rehearsal. “I know you’re all nervous; some most than others,” Lapis swears she feels her gaze but it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. “But I’m confident you’re all prepared to make a magnificent show.”

“And even if you don’t,” Pearl turns when she feels a hand on her shoulder—Rose. “You have to recognize that you tried your best. Though I’m pretty sure you all know the drill, so I don’t doubt it will be extraordinary nonetheless.” Rose quickly turns to Lapis and winks, and for a second the actress is _certain_ that the manager knows exactly _everything_ that’s going on in her life.

She feels a hand on her own shoulder, and she turns her head to meet that one shade of green she didn’t know she was longing for.

“We need to talk.”

She doesn’t get any explanations as she’s led behind the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The accident with the LED lights was a real thing that happened last year, and we did have to work with a set that was about a meter lower than the original height. And yes. I was blamed for the stage not being 'lit properly' even though it was the theatre group that bumped into it in the first place.


	8. Denouement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On show night, Peridot realizes that distractions are things we seek, not things we find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy this took a while. 
> 
> I finished this a couple of days ago, but I decided to put it up on tuesday because that's what I said like 3 chapters ago. For the sake of Lapidot tuesday, I guess (whose tag seems to be a little dry). I'm not one for author notes, especially if the story is not 100% finished yet, so I'll just leave this here and yell at myself for breaking the rule of "not going over 8 chapters".
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around. I never thought a fic not in my mother tongue would get this much attention. (English is hard) Concerning the comments on Peridot's tragic backstory: All in due time.

There was something quite bizarre about fear. It worked in different, unimaginable ways, with unmeasurable outcomes that vary from person to person. Whether it was a phobia, or something as instinctive as stage fright, it felt no different than countless of frozen needles piercing through your body, like some sick lobotomy that utterly reformed every limb, every muscle, every nerve without making any visible scar or stain. Lapis knew this feeling very well, but she couldn’t say she was used to it.

 

She doesn’t bother looking at the clock when she shifts to sit at the edge of her bed. She’s drunk with sleep, and suddenly every decision she has ever made is justifiable, and makes sense within a shattered frame of thought that can’t differentiate dreams from realities. It is in that state of remoteness and indifference that she doesn’t feel afflicted by that ceaseless fear that grows from the pit of her stomach. Instead, there’s confusion and uncertainty, feelings that she had grown accustomed to in the past couple of months. She can’t say she’s in the right state of mind to be able to rethink her life choices, or reflect upon what will happen in the next twelve hours or so, but she knows she won’t be sleeping any time soon, so she does so anyway.

 She rubs her eyes, sleep completely forgotten, but doesn’t move, deciding on staring at the flickering streetlight outside her window. She finds it rather ironic, and ignores the way her stomach does an awkward backflip while her heart trips over a rope. It wasn’t her fault; it was around three in the morning and the lamp was the only light source attracting her tired eyes. She swallows, but her throat is dry and it makes her cough. When the light becomes unbearable (and the flickering mildly irritating) she shifts her gaze to the alarm clock sitting on her bedside. She was right. She closes her eyes tightly and frowns. Being awake in the middle of the night (fact that was somewhat debatable) would bite her in the ass on the show, but there was only so much she could do to deal with anxiety. She opens them again and waits for the fuzziness to pass and the blinking stars to fade from her vision before deciding to get up.

It turns out to be a challenge; her body is still drowsy with sleep, legs practically lethargically unresponsive, so she wobbles for a while before her feet find stable footing—which really, is another way of saying Morpheus was reluctant to give her the upper hand. Traveling from her bed to the door turns into a deep-sea hazard; as if trying to navigate the darkest depths of the ocean while being shackled to some otherworldly entity fixed on reminding her of how much she hated herself. She finds the overly detailed comparison to be rather farfetched, yet strangely accurate, since she could almost _feel_ her room overflowing with salt water and the immense pressure crushing her bones and lungs. Not to mention her constant fear was indeed comparable to having a beast-like being gawking hungrily down at her, watching her every move with a sick-toothed grin.

Any other day, she would’ve told said beast to fuck right off, but tonight she let it grace her with its presence.

She remembers her objective when she feels the door handle beneath the palm of her hand. The metal is cool to the touch, but her head is distracted with the view outside her window. She lifts her hand from the handle and calmly makes her way towards it—she is surprised when she finds herself squinting, and she guesses it is just her eyes being too sensitive after just waking up (it was still dark outside, but her room was significantly _darker_.) The damaged lamp was the only thing illuminating the entire street, flickering irregularly—she had tried to find a pattern, but failed after exactly forty-five seconds of staring nonchalantly at a streetlight with a grim expression and a faint feeling of displeasure. She finds herself mesmerized at the way the raindrops gleam as they fall near the flickering light. It had started raining in the time it took her to get out of bed and make her way to the door. While that action itself could’ve taken seconds, at most minutes, in her mind she had taken months to touch the old handle.

She turns away when the drops sliding down the glass begin to blur her view and suddenly she grows sick of the color blue.

She was unquestionably fond of the color—it was a fate she couldn’t escape from the moment she had decided to be a rebellious teenager and dye her hair to such flamboyant hue—but there, in her bedroom, at 3:24 A.M, the color felt redundant, distant, and unbearable. Everything, though in different shades, was the same color, but given the lack of light to differentiate, it was all a murky navy blue that reminded her of the feeling that caused her so much distress. It made the metaphor feel real. The blue curtains, the covers, the sheets, the walls, everything was that haunting color.  She breathes in.

She leaves the room and faces the idea of turning on the lights with phenomenal reluctance.

 

Her kitchen is not much better, but the absence of color given by the white walls gives her a peace of mind. Her head is so cluttered that she successfully ignores the tapping on the windows, and even her own footsteps as she walks aimlessly around the kitchen table. She stops for a second to reorganize her thoughts, only to sit down on the kitchen countertop closest to the window and sigh wistfully. In an act of disdain she shakes her head. She had complained about her life becoming a shitty romance novel and the fact she was acting like a love-struck fool wasn’t helping. Her thoughts immediately wandered to the night before, right after the practice curtain call. She certainly did not expect Peridot to reach out first.

_“Listen, I know what you’re doing.”_ Lapis is lead—Er, _is_ _dragged backstage_ and it gives her a faint sting of nostalgia that dissipates the moment Peridot lets go of her hand and gives her a stern, somewhat cynical look.

_“What are you talking about?”_ She knows how this will end. Because it’s predictable, because it has happened before, because she’s afraid it will end _differently._ The blonde crosses her arms, but her gaze lacks the usual ferocity, the anger; and instead it shows turmoil; as if she herself wasn’t so sure on why she dragged the actress backstage.

_“You’re toying with me!”_ She watched as a sudden rage rose from the pit of the technician’s stomach. _“Did you really think I was going to throw all of—of_ that _under the bus after an apology?! I mean, who even does that?!”_ She frantically moves her hands, before breathing deeply and collecting herself, but Lapis can do nothing but watch.

_Did it mean anything to you? Was it just a game? Just tell me so that I can move the fuck on and get you out of my head!”_ Lapis remains in shock, to say the least. Eyes wide, staring at Peridot who was now breathing heavily.

 “ _...I don’t know.”_ She flinches when Peridot’s head snaps up. She looks…dismayed, offended even. _“I didn’t mean it to get out of hand, I…”_ She struggles with the right words because she knows the person in front of her is a susceptible time bomb that would go off if she cuts the wrong wire. Walking on eggshells around her words, her gaze shifts between the techie’s eyes, yet this one doesn’t seem to get the message.

_“Stop that…”_ Peridot is practically in her face now, _“Just…stop. Can you stop acting for like, a second!?”_

_“Peridot I’m an actress.”_

_“You know that’s not what I meant!”_ Lapis feels herself being gently pushed against the props table and does her best to evade the other’s gaze. _“Lazuli.”_ She fails spectacularly.

" _Look at me and tell me you were just messing with me.”_ She swallows.

_“I was just messing with you.”_

A laugh bubbles up in her chest when she hears Peridot groan loudly and step back.

_“God, you’re impossible!”_ Lapis is openly giggling now, soft bells that for a second make Peridot’s gaze soften, but it doesn’t make it any less inappropriate. It’s no different than their past conversations—that alone hits home. They were still the same. Bickering, laughing, nothing had changed, except the tension had yet to settle in. Her laughter dies down and it’s silent again. Both look uncomfortable and nothing is resolved. They’re back to square one and Lapis doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.

_“You’re an ass.”_

" _I’m sorry.”_ And she means it. _“I know I’ve been giving you missed signals this whole time,”_ She tries to get her thoughts together, but it doesn’t seem to work _“it was a dick move on my part.”_

She could’ve phrased that better.

_“You think?”_

_“Shush, I wasn’t finished.”_ Lapis sends a glare, but it’s got no menace, so she continues _“I guess I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into…”_ A shy smile graces her lips and leaves as quick as it appeared.

_“Is this something you do often?”_

_“Contrary to popular belief, I am not a raving siren fixed on turning all women into lesbians”_

_“Could’ve fooled me.”_

_“Please, I don’t line-fish. I only go after what catches my eye.”_ She winks but Peridot has none of it.

_“I will sign a restraining order just because of your sea puns.”_

_“You’ve got to admit I had you hooked.”_

_“Stop that. You know you still do.”_ The mood shifts, and the air is heavy again. Jokes aside, Lapis never did address the issue at hand and she was beginning to think she should’ve done so before trying to lighten up the mood.

_“Alright I’m sorry. For real this time.”_

_“Did you just say for real—?”_

_“Can you stop being a smart-ass for a second?”_

_“Lapis I’m a technician.”_

_“You called me Lapis…”_

There was something about being addressed by her name that made things different. Maybe it was the lack of formalities that created such a false sense of familiarity; a sign that they’re both really something more than co-workers having some ridiculous affair that threatened their professionalism.

She would’ve explored the idea a bit more if it hadn’t been for the deafening roar coming from the menacing carpenter.

_“I’m closing in approximately thirty seconds so you better get your asses out here before I lock you up for the night! Unless you’re Peridot, in which case I will personally drag you out!”_

 

And that was the end of that.

 

And now she’s sitting there, thinking of what could’ve been, what might’ve been, worried out of her mind unconsciously, because her brain can only process how tired she really is. Yet she knew it was all a big distraction from what was truly tearing her apart from the inside. She didn’t want to think about it. She refused to surface that fear, that dread that was burying itself deep within her frame of mind. She was anxious, anxious before one show of many. It was silly, ludicrous, and laughable; you name it, for an actress to feel nervous before doing what was her main source of income. _Stage fright? Really? That’s what’s stopping you from acting like a functional human being?_ A low growl coming from a hidden shadow beneath the table, behind the door, from the darkness within her room with a crook-open door; it whispers.

She brushes it off, feeling the figurative beast roll its eyes. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. She was damn sure of that, but it didn’t make her feel any less frightened.

“Fuck off…” She mumbles, and finds it silly to be arguing with a product of her own mind.

And it goes on for at least two hours until the sun rises over the horizon, illuminating her kitchen. She finds herself internally hissing. Faint orange glow lands on the glass table, reflecting the countertop as it bounces against the walls, and suddenly her kitchen turns into a fusion of dawn and dusk. The side closest to the window is beautifully lit up by the rising sun while the other basks in the shadows of an early morning. She hops down from the countertop and stretches; arms held above her head, leaning back, heels leaving the cold tiles and the cold air from the air conditioning makes its way under her tank top.

She yawns and rubs her eyes, as if waking up for a second time. She settles for coffee after lingering in front of the fridge for at least a minute, leaning on one foot and resting her arm on the door. She wasn’t hungry. Not that she would be able to eat anyways.

She squints and makes her way to the window grasping a coffee mug with some sort of water pun painted on it. She’s pleasantly surprised at the sight of a rainbow and freshly damped grass. Water flowed gently down the sidewalk, and she spots several people leaving their houses for work. _Early risers,_ she snorts. She envied them.

It dawns down to her that the show was, in effect, in around ten hours—the first one, at least. She flushes down the last of her black coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste, before making her way to the bathroom and essentially beginning her morning routine.

She feels disconnected as she stands under the running water, pretending it was doing something to wash her worries away. In retrospect, it wasn’t the first time she had felt disconnected (it happened more often than she liked to admit) but she felt obliged to assume she’d at least feel _something_ the day of the first show. She doesn’t notice the water turn cold, or her lip begin to quiver, eyes lost somewhere in the cracks of her bathroom wall, or mindlessly reading the description of some hair product. Eventually she snaps out of it, walking out of the shower and rigorously drying her hair with a towel. She’s ready in less than an hour, settling for tight jeans and an over-sized shirt she’ll have to change out of anyway.

She drops her backpack unceremoniously on the floor, next to the front door of her apartment before flopping on the couch and reaching for her phone. It wasn’t time to leave for the theatre yet, she had time to waste.

Immediately she finds several notifications from the production group chat; some with too many emojis, others with remarkable use of profanity, and overall spam that did very little to calm her nerves.  A name catches her attention, conveniently in green font, a single text; _[Peridot at 7:32 AM: On my way to the theater. Gotta make sure nothing miraculously broke down over night.]_ Followed by sarcastic remarks and crying emojis.

She locks her phone, not before opening a music app, and shoves it inside her pocket. She fidgets with her earbuds for a few seconds, before throwing her bag over her shoulder and opening the door.

 

Sunlight immediately warms her skin—she hadn’t noticed just how cold the inside of her apartment was—and it makes her sigh. If she was lucky, she’d arrive before anyone else. She needed alone time, and perhaps some practicing could clear her head.

* * *

For once, the ride to the theater is soothingly calm. The walk to the bus station, the ten-minute bus ride, and the three-block walk to the large auditorium were all quietly serene. It was either that, or her music was so loud that she had approximately eight near-death experiences she hadn’t noticed. Whatever the case was, she was happy to reach the doors of the theater and see no cars parked in front.

She didn’t go in straight away. She took her time to inspect the posters as her hand lingered on the handle; in one word, it was ominous. The production wasn’t well known, so the dark tones added a sense of mystery. She doesn’t remember the picture being taken, but she wasn’t complaining. She definitely looked _good_ in that dress.

“Hey, Narcissus, could you please not block the entrance?” She rolls her eyes and pushes the door open.

“Mornin’, Jasper.”

“Sup, runt. You a nervous wreck yet?”

“Surprisingly enough, no. Thanks for asking, though.”

“That’s good. Try to keep it that way.” Shortly after, Amethyst walks in and waves at Lapis before dropping her bag near the door and rushing backstage. Jasper looks around,

“Huh, she isn’t here yet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lapis looks up and finds the source of the voice resting on the fly system with a screwdriver in her hand. “As if I’d lower myself to arrive after you.”

“What a great way to start the day. Good morning, crew.” She turns around just in time to see Pearl walk in, and Lapis deduces that if anyone needs a drink here, it’s her.  “Anything out of the ordinary?”

“The rubber around the lenses of the spotlight might’ve melted due to overheat, but I’m taking care of that right now. Haven’t checked the sound equipment, though.” She explains nonchalantly, completely ignoring the fact she was sitting on a metal construction that was probably more than thirty years old with no harness.

“Not bad. At least nothing is on fire, right P?” She hears Amethyst say as she makes her way towards them. A wave of emotions paints the director’s face, ending in disgust.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t talk about that.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t talk about many things, Pierogi.” Lapis catches Pearl blushing while Amethyst gives her a knowing look, and suddenly she wishes she had arrived later.

“ _Amethyst._ ”

“Enough, you two. Shall we get started? Peridot, I need a mic check ASAP. Jasper, make sure the stage hasn’t fallen apart. Can someone get a hold of Lars and Sadie? We have to do last minute fixes on costumes in case there’s an issue. The rest of you, run over your scenes for the time being, we’ll run it one last time before the house opens. You’re dismissed.”

It becomes very apparent to Lapis that things could certainly fall apart if Rose Quartz wasn’t present.

And to think this was her last production.

 

“Mom!”

She turns around so quickly she feels a sharp pain on her neck, but she pays it no mind.

In front of the entrance of the auditorium, there’s a little boy around the age of thirteen, looking rather enthusiastic. Lapis doesn’t know how he does it. To be that happy and energetic before 12:00 P.M was something beyond unimaginable, and perfectly inconceivable. She smiles nonetheless, because it’s contagious, and because she knows he’s the reason she’s there in the first place.

“Steven!” She begins to walk towards him, but only makes three steps before he throws himself at her, hugging her waist tightly. Lapis rests her head on those soft curls that were in complete disarray, yet matched his personality perfectly. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she last saw him. (It had probably been around three months, but in all fairness, a week already felt like an eternity)

“Lapis! Oh gosh I’m so excited! Are you nervous?” His smile spreads warmth all over, and if she pays close attention, she can almost see stars shining from his eyes. That was the kind of person Steven was; the kind that would instantly warm your heart with a smile and a compliment. For a brief moment the nerves diminish, and she smiles; a genuine, tired smile that shows how you feel but also that you’re still hanging on.

“A little,” She doesn’t like lying to Steven, but this was a battle she had to fight on her own. “Are you gonna stick around for rehearsal?”

“Just for a little while, dad’s picking me up to see Connie. I’ll be back for the show though!” She ruffles his hair with a smile, and notices how his eyes go wide as he catches something behind her.

“Peridot!” The girl in question—now safely on the ground—raises her head and catches Lapis’ eye for a second before turning to Steven. He happily jogs towards her, completely dismissing the mildly irritated look on Peridot’s face.

Lapis can’t hear the conversation, so she silently watches as Steven traps the technician in a hug, who reluctantly hugs back (If you could call “awkward-patting-on-the-back” hugging, that is.)

She doesn’t have time to question how they know each other, because she’s immediately lead backstage by Sapphire, who was oddly eager to practice one last time.

 

She has lost count of the many times she has been lead behind the stage, and every individual episode replays itself in her head as she mindlessly traces the wires on the walls and counts the steps of the stairs. In the first one she’s being dragged by Jasper. She wasn’t fond of that one, though she had to admit it did lead to some interesting shortcomings.

She had met Peridot because of her, after all.

The other times are not as important, or relevant. _Relevant to what?_ She doesn’t know. Perhaps that redundant plot she tried so hard to avoid. Who was she kidding? The moment her life resembled a bestseller novel popular among teenagers, she knew she was in too deep. I mean, come on, really? Beginning a playful rivalry with a fellow co-worker and eventually falling for them? _I didn’t fall for her._

She’s right. She didn’t fall. She ran, swayed, tripped, and eventually slammed against a metaphorical love wall with a “No running” sign. Did she regret any part of it? Absolutely not.

 

She does, however, admit that maybe running in the first place wasn’t a good idea.

 

“Are you okay?” Oh right. She was walking with Sapphire.

“Yes? No? Maybe, so?” She panics, but recomposes herself, “It’s probably just the nerves haha…” She figures that for a person as stoical as Sapphire, she sure had a way to express stern disapproval without moving a single face muscle. Not that the fake laugh helped anyways.

“If it is about the bitter technician you’re so fond of, you should really do something before the house opens.” Lapis takes a moment to process it, but she’s reluctant to question the actress.

“It’s pretty obvious. Being near you two is the equivalent of walking into a laser-protected minefield.”

“Ruby!”

“What? It’s true! It’s suffocating! Just get a room and get it over with!” Lapis feels herself warm up instantly, but she’s not sure if it is because of the comment or the fact that the whole ordeal was obvious.

“It’s not that simple…” She begins, but her words die short. Ruby sighs and crosses her arms, while Sapphire gives her an apologetic look that has sympathy blended in. “I’ll do something about it.”

“You better. Having the main role AND the technical director horny the day of the show is a recipe for disaster. Ow.”            

Deep inside she knows she really doesn’t want to do something about it.

* * *

After the first two hours, Peridot changes the countdown from days to hours and minutes. Three hours. Three-hundred minutes left. Eighteen-thousand seconds. The counting begins again and she’s in autopilot for most of the rehearsal. It’s a peculiar way of coping, and she knows that, but it’s also the only way she can do her work without daydreaming about meaningless conversations that would never happen.

You see, there was a part of their relationship—her relationship with Lapis, or whatever the hell _this_ was—that she had managed to decipher. She wasn’t keen to accept that she had done so within the sleepless hours approaching the show night, but she was still proud of the progress. Those silent moments that bothered her so much said enough. Those spaces needed to be there. An area of her brain screams they should’ve been replaced with actions while the other reasons that they should’ve done so with words.

Saying she was torn was an understatement.

She was shattered. A frame of reason completely divided into miniscule paths and responses that would continue down the road depending on which one you chose. A single action and word could mean so many things. It could lead to so many different outcomes, create so many different stories, and all she had to do was play her cards right.

The only issue was trying to play Poker with someone who only played Blackjack.

Lapis boldness and intractability was charming, in a way. It was a change in routine, of tiring continuity. She had been intrigued at first. Entertained, amused, whatever word you want to use. To have someone bypass every single plan, prediction, and speculation one had was such a bizarre and exciting concept for her. She didn’t have to plan what would happen next because she _didn’t know_.

She grew addicted to change; addicted to the feeling of surprise and mild amusement.

“Messing” with Lapis was going to leave a gaping hole that would never be close, and she was aware of that. Yet she kept digging her own grave, mentally repeating the words “I will get out, I will get out” only to find out she’d feel comfortable within the entrails of the earth. The moment she kissed her she was already associating a certain type of smell, of texture, of warmth to that feeling of recalcitrance.

She had willingly fallen for a narcissistic actress with a rebel complex, and she was doing nothing to stop it. Not that she wanted to, of course.

She needed to talk to her.

But she also needed to get her shit together otherwise she’d snap or break down because her brain is fried with countless of equations and there’s barely any room to deal with overheating.

Three hours left. She had three hours left to fix things with the actress before the house opened. She knew that once that happened, it’d all go down the hill from there. More shows, no more rehearsal, just get it all over and then the group would disperse.

 

Peridot was not ready for that yet.

 

“Hey, Peridooot!” Amethyst calls from the stage, dragging out the ‘o’s and hoping to catch the technician’s attention. Peridot rolls her eyes. _As if she was that easy to ignore_.

“What do you want?” She yells back, not really in the mood to move out of her chair.

“I need your help with whatever _these_ are.” Peridot rolls her eyes. She knows it involves the lamps in some way or another.

“Tungsten-halogen or HMI?”

“In _English_ please.”

“Lamp or followspot?”

“Lamp.”

“I’ll be right down.”

 

“What did you even call these back there? Tongue-something?” Peridot concludes that it’s hard to focus when you have an insufferable carpenter looking over your shoulder for a long period of time.

“Tungsten-halogen.” The reply is monotonous, and nearly automatic.

“It sounds so funny when you say it. What about this one?” Amethyst points at the followspot and Peridot ignores her as she chuckles uncontrollably, with a snort here and there.

“Hydrargyrum medium-arciodide.”

“Of course you’d know how to say that. You’re such a nerd.” The techie gives up trying to hide her lack of amusement.

“It’s part of the job.” She doesn’t raise her head when she answers, but simply buries herself further into her work, tuning out Amethyst almost completely.

“So…you and Lapis, huh?”

Emphasis on ‘almost’.

She hits her head with the lamp housing and nearly cuts the wrong wire when her neck snaps up. She looks up to see Amethyst giving her a dubious look; nearly cocky. Like the one she often gives Pearl.

Realization hits her like a fallen stage light. “Is this what you called me for? This lamp is not even damaged!”

“C’mon, Peri. I’m trying to help you here. We’re friends, right?”

“Sadly.”

“Then let me help you out. Are you two like, an item or?” She’s skeptical, but she decides to humor her anyway.

“Not really.”

“After what happened in the bar? Really?”

“You know about that?!”

“Girl, you both came in looking all hot n’ bothered. ‘Didn’t need to be sober to notice _that_.”

“Ugh, great. Just what I needed.” The blonde jumps down from the followspot, seemingly more distressed than before, and the fact Amethyst wouldn’t stop teasing wasn’t helping.

“Just go for it. Define. Your. Relationship.” She can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Amethyst might be insufferable, but she had the best intentions most of the time. “JUST. DO IT.”

 Emphasis on ‘most’.

* * *

Two hours in and Lapis is already contemplating tripping over the stage to ditch the show. The house is starting to look like the show is about to begin; things were picked up, actors were in their costumes, tech crew tried its best to stay backstage and headsets were being tested. Major technical tests were done two hours prior to the opening of the house, but because Theatre was a game of luck, they knew they had to do a secondary mic check.

Just because it was show night didn’t mean that tech week was over. If anything, the dreaded force of unpredictability fell upon the crew with more persistency than ever; like a wicked full moon whose sole purpose was to ruin _everything_. Such ferocity was truly terrifying, though there was only so much that could happen in a single night. She stops herself just in time. Better not to jinx it. She had been at this long enough to know that in theatre, _anything_ could happen.

Like finding the messiest crew member laughing alongside the most uptight technical director she has ever met. Now _that_ was a sight to admire.

She didn’t feel jealous. The bite at her stomach was simple uncertainty; nerves from her imminent destiny. There was no way she was jealous. That was absurd. That sickening technophile could do whatever the hell she pleased, for all Lapis cared. Besides, it’s not like they were a thing, right? She had no custody over her. She ignored the awful turning in her stomach as she watched the blonde laugh openly over something the stagehand said. The way her eyes wrinkled and her mouth turned upwards, giving her a villainous feline look. _Cute._

It becomes apparent that Lapis is, in fact, growling. Not loudly, but there’s a faint rumbling coming from her chest and the back of her throat. Fists tightened into a ball, she stares. Trying to read their lips from a distance, but she knows she’s too far away to listen or even make out what they say. For a second she thinks of walking up to them and interrupting whatever they have going on. She even thinks it over, for a couple more.

She doesn’t remember forcing her legs to move in their direction, much less fixing her gaze with Peridot’s as she angrily stomps towards them with absolutely no plan at hand.

Not like she needed a plan anyway. Being spontaneous was just her field of expertise.

She, however, doesn’t expect the sting of jealousy (Yes, she figures whatever _that_ was, was definitely jealously) to strike her, like punch to the diaphragm that forces the air out of her lungs when she sees the carpenter wrap her arm around the technician’s waist in a half-hug. Now, Lapis wouldn’t consider herself to be a jealous person. Goodness, no. She just wasn’t keen on sharing her toys.

“TD” She refuses to enunciate the technician’s name, because she knows it’ll come out needy.

“Lazuli.” And it comes out as cold as she expected it to be.

“Uh…I’ll catch ya later, Peri!” There’s a pause as Amethyst makes her way backstage, unnoticed by both the actress and the technical director. Neither of them notices the playful smirk and triumphant attitude that graces her features, like an aura of accomplishment that envelops her and fills her head like rich hubris and success, which of course, is completely overlooked by Peridot, who was trying to make sense of what was currently happening.

The tension becomes unbearable, but it’s not something they’re not used to. In fact, it is almost familiar. The space is there, and it is not meant to be filled by words. Perhaps actions, but Lapis isn’t so sure about that. She wasn’t worried if it’d come out as forward—that was the least of her worries—but maybe uncalled for? They’re not the same anymore, are they?

“We need to talk.” No the most original approach, but she needs to get her point across.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that very clear.”

“This isn’t what I want.”

“Then what _do you_ want? Don’t you think the mixed signals are getting old?”

“Peridot, listen-”

“No. _You_ listen. I’m getting really fucking sick of your attitude. I’m sick of you wanting me to fall at your feet like a desperate fool,” She takes a step closer to Lapis,

“I’m sick of you walking away after a conversation like you just got the last goddamn word” she takes another one, but this time the actress meets her halfway.

“And I’m sick of you planting that gross little hope every time you…every time you do _anything_ , really.” Peridot’s voice dies down, her anger diminishes, but she looks pained. She nearly whispers, “Will you fuck off already..? And make it easier for me?”

“Yeah…but that wouldn’t be fun, would it?” Lapis carefully wraps her arms around Peridot’s neck, fully aware that this was probably not the best way to clear up the issue. But she could only try.

“Hey, Peridot.” Her voice is almost inaudible at this point, and it sends shivers down the technician’s back. “Would it be appropriate of me to kiss you right now?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you want me to stop..?” She whispered as she rested her forehead against Peridot’s.

“…no.”

 

It’s strange, really; the whole act of… _acting_ —for a lack of a better word. Lapis was so familiar with it, but at the same time, right now, it felt so foreign. She was certain that the way she kissed would blow her cover. That desperate want dominated the need of keeping her cool. Lapis, for an actress, was regrettably awful at hiding her emotions.

But the fact that her desire was equally matched made her feel somewhat better.

Lapis could safely admit that whatever they had going on, definitely meant something, because instead of heated and lustful, the kiss was paced, yet desperate, if that made any sense. Every time their lips brushed, there was a strike of heat and a brisk of cold air that stung her skin. _That_ was new. And before she knew it, it was over.

Breathless, neither muttered a word, and silence filled the space once again. Peridot accepted the fact those moments weren’t meant to be filled with words. Actions might’ve done the trick, but for now, she allowed the silence to play through.

 

“Final call, crew!”

An hour until the show began, and people were beginning to notice the change. It wasn’t really subtle either, but it was definitely for the better. Lapis, for one, moved around the stage gracefully tracing her steps. She was…lively, much more so than what was normal (As Pearl had put it) and though the nerves were still there, there was something distracting her, and she was thankful for it.

People began to crowd outside the theater and their chattering could be heard from the inside. The actors tried their best to stay calm and collected, but some still failed miserably, while the tech crew relentlessly ran around checking every single piece of machinery for faults or errors. Jasper screamed at her team, while Peridot tried to get the ‘cool kids’ on track, but overall, the crew seemed to be handling well. Nothing was on fire yet, or utterly destroyed—not that the lack of participation from a certain fiery pyrotechnic had anything to do with it. It was simply for ‘her own good.’ Rose Quartz had moved to sit in the balcony where she would get a good view of everything, which also meant Pearl was pretty much on her own.

“P, calm down.” _Sure, Amethyst. Shoot the person and tell them not to bleed._

“The house is opening in one hour and you expect me to calm down?!” A reasonable response, but in Peridot’s opinion, completely irrelevant. How did she expect the crew to stay calm when she couldn’t even collect herself?

Then again, Peridot wasn’t any better. Seven days, seven hours, and twelve minutes into tech week and she becomes a track runner, a professional wall climber, and an ad-liber extraordinaire. Running from the balcony, to front stage, backstage, and the sound room, just to check for feedback and making sure every actor had a proper mic setup. In only an hour she became as physically fit as an athlete and skilled enough in the act of lying to the manager about issues being solved before the house opened. (Said issues would most likely be understood and solved halfway through the show without the audience noticing, but saying that would be unprofessional.)

Not to mention that if _anything_ went wrong, it would inevitably fall on her shoulders, but she was a technician, so she was used to that.

“Backstage is set to go, TD.” The buzzer of the transmitter practically fills her head like an annoying fly, but she nods anyway by waving her hand outside of the small sound room window. She turns around and rolls her eyes when she finds the sound board empty. _Sour Cream…_

As if on cue (pun unintended) the sound engineer bursts through the door running as if his life was in imminent danger and sits down on his chair, quickly equalizing sound filtering. _Ah, he was checking for feedback again._

“Didn’t we _just_ check for feedback?”

“Someone bumped into one of the speakers.” He speaks between ragged breaths and pauses.

“Of course they did. Did you fix it?”

“Yeah, although that specific set was aiming at the balcony and the manager saw me running around like a maniac.”

“I assure you that that was nothing new to Rose Quartz.”

“Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.”

“Of course not, but at least you’re not _onstage.”_

“Heard that, techie.” Peridot’s gaze shifts to the door and finds Lapis leaning against the doorframe, wearing that same blue dress that had caught her eye on the second day of hell week, but this time prepared to put up one hell of a show. Her makeup was something else entirely; since most of the production was done in the dark, ominous markings were drawn to glow a bright yellow, in contrast with the blue lighting. Peridot had to admit that Pearl had great taste in theater ambience.

Except the technician was too busy staring at the actress’ eyes (just eyes, though she did make out a faint _hey, eyes are up here_ ) to notice the smaller details of her costume. _Woops_.

“I told you not to call me that.” It sounds snappy, but not really, and it just makes Lapis smile brighter. “What do you need?” She doesn’t need to ask, but for the sake of continuity, she plays along.

“Y’know, just help with the mic.” Lapis smiles innocently, but Peridot catches on almost immediately when she notices the small nod towards the stairs.

“I’ll be right down.” The actress nods and makes her way downstairs while Peridot checks the dimmers one last time. Taking a deep breath, she stands up and makes her way down and towards the changing rooms, leaving a very perplexed audio engineer muttering bitterly to himself—as far as he was concerned, Peridot could’ve fixed the actress mic right there and then.

 

When she reaches the auditorium floor, the stress is replaced with confidence, and heavy longing. She moves slowly, taking her time to inspect what has been her source of income for the past three months. In all fairness, she was proud of her progress. Of everyone’s progress, really. Though she still thought the theatre group was mad. _In a good way, I guess._ She was going to miss them.

But she was going to miss her the most.

“Hey, Peridot!” She turns to see Pearl waving at her, much calmer and collected than before, and conversing with gusto about what she assumed was space related with Amethyst. As great of a director as she was, her heart was, evidently, still in astrophysics. The carpenter just seemed happy to see Pearl enjoy herself. It was better than to have her freak out about something this far into show night. Peridot waves back, but points towards the changing room. Pearl looks confused, but Amethyst gives her a look that reads straight through her.

“Don’t take too long, the house opens in five!”

“Yeah, Peri. Make it quick!” And she’s out of there before she can hear Amethyst’s laugh.

The rest of the way to the changing rooms is unusually quiet. The stagehands chattered nonchalantly, completely unaware—or perhaps extremely aware—that the house was about to open and that this was their last moment of freedom. She couldn’t blame them. Stagehands were the ones that built _everything_ , and also took down _everything_. Surprisingly, it took more precision than she gave them credit for. She always thought Jasper was just a brute that found pleasure in destroying things. Actually, she still thinks that, but she had to give her some credit. The stage that was built for this production was incredible.

As incredible as an ocean ground simulation could hope to be; _this, really, is pretty damn incredible_. Perhaps a little intimidating, but it was Lapis dancing on that stage. Not her.

Somehow that made things more alarming.

She doesn’t remember making her way down the corridor and stopping in front of the changing room, much less knocking, but not noticing these things was becoming a habit of sorts.

_Distractions, after all, are things we seek, not things we find._

It isn’t long until the door opens, and Lapis doesn’t mutter a word as she takes Peridot’s hand and pulls her inside with a dubious smile, very similar to the one she greeted Peridot with on the fourth day of tech week. It’s like every interaction replays itself like some twisted Déjà vu, except each interaction _did_ happen, but it feels so long ago.

She concludes that maybe, just maybe, she should be paying more attention to the girl pulling at her clothes than her thoughts on abiding recurrence.

Peridot takes a hold of the actress’ waist and traces her back, “How about you let me do my job?” she stops at the slope of Lapis’ back, feeling the device through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Mm…no.” She wiggles her hips in the technician’s grasp and slips her hands under her shirt.

“Your hands are cold, you ass.”

“Then maybe you should warm them up.” Peridot rolls her eyes. _Minx…_ but eventually resigns and leans in. The actress happily meets her halfway, stopping inches away only for a second, before giggling and closing the gap with a quick kiss.

“House opens in three!” They break away a little disappointed, but relieved nonetheless.

Peridot calmly rests her hands on the actress shoulders before turning her around and tracing the device with the tip of her fingers. She knows she needs to reach inside Lapis’ dress, but she takes her time to trace the skin of her bare shoulders. She might be obsessed with the other’s freckles, or maybe she’s looking for an excuse to waste time.

“Not to sound needy or anything, but I’m the leading role.” She laughs and finally grasps the mic after sliding her hand down the opening of the other’s dress. She hears Lapis breathe in and hiss, probably at the cold touch, but eventually relaxes.

It takes seconds, really. At least she thinks it does.

“Alright, done. I’ll see you after the show.” Peridot’s hands linger for a moment, but she eventually snaps out of it and moves to the door.

“Hey, wait.” Peridot turns around to find murky blue staring back at her. She hadn’t noticed the actress shaking in her grasp, and suddenly the once overconfident actress is replaced by a quivering mess. “Can you stay..? Just for a second.”

“...Sure. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a little nervous I guess?” She lets out a nervous laugh, but it sounds forced and shaky. Peridot feels useless. She had never seen the actress like this and isn’t sure of what to do. In a move of abruptness, she takes a hold of Lapis’ face and lifts it, losing her bravery in a matter of seconds. There was something about Lapis’ gaze that sucked the will out of her body. Her breath, her willingness, it all went down the drain until she became an empty, and expectant carcass with a clogged throat. It almost felt like drowning, really.

“Hey, you’ll be great, stop being dumb.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s reassuring.”

“I just find it so stupid, I mean, you’re incredible.” She doesn’t notice Lapis’ expression when she says it. “You’re such a graceful, talented, and beautiful actress that seeing you insecure baffles me.” She keeps going, because, really, Lapis needs it, and she’s happy to spill out her feelings if it gives her enough confidence to stand there, in front of hundreds of people and do what she loves doing. “Lapis Lazuli, you’re acting really out of character. Get it together.”

“You’re right. I really am. How could I possibly let that happen? What kind of actress am I?”

“A great one that’s about to get yelled at by the director.”

“House is opening!”

“Shit!” They both laugh, but it’s muffled by the sound of people walking in and engaging in trivial conversations. They had at least a minute left before it was strictly necessary for them to be in position. Peridot hears buzzing from her transmitter, _okay; make that less than a minute._

“We need to go like, right now. Don’t worry about it, you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, I….I really needed that.” Peridot leans down to place a kiss on Lapis’ forehead before running to the door.

“Don’t mention it. Break a leg, would ya?”

“Of course.”

She doesn’t leave straight away, of course. She never does.

“Oh, and, Lazuli?”

“Yes?”

 “It’s been a pleasure to work with you.” 

* * *

" _Call one, everybody!”_

She sits restlessly backstage, hearing the cues from a stagehand’s transmitter like she had done so many times, except that, well, the _real deal_ was about to start. From where she sits, she can see the full house if she lifts the curtain ever so slightly, but she doesn’t know if she wants to. She knows the Universe-Quartz family was sitting on the balcony, and that Steven seems as excited as ever next to his friend Connie. She also knows Pearl is sitting in the front row, and that everyone in the crew had at least one person in the audience that was cheering for them. _It sure seems nice._ She didn’t exactly have…anyone, other than Steven of course. She was used to it, though. She did it because she loved it.

Though it’d sure be nice if there was someone there just to see _you._ Her mind wanders to the sound room. There was _one_ person.

“Uff, the house sure is full, huh? How are you guys feelin’?”

“Like death is near.”

“Way to be optimistic, Bismuth.”

“Go to hell, Citrine.”

She ignores the bickering actors and gazes down the stage. To think it was all divided by a simple curtain. The moment that exaggerated piece of cloth opened it’d be it. She’d be out. She’d dance, she’d scream until her voice is gone, but that was theatre.

_“Call two, crew, ready for performance.”_

_“Warning, LX 24.”_

 

It all becomes a countdown. The chattering stops. Stagehands begin to move. The lights of the house begin to dim and actors begin to stretch. Lapis knows this is it.

_“Warning, Lights 28, 29, and 30. Warming Sound, Lights 31, GO, Light 32, GO.”_ The stage comes to life, like it has done many times before. The Blues bounce against her dress as she stands near the curtain, waiting for her call. She’s glowing, literally and figuratively, and her chest is light, filled with confidence. Overwhelming conceit flows through her, and for once, the beast is nowhere in sight.

_“Standby, Sound.”_ Her muscles tense, the shadows shift, and she’s on her toes—literally, because she’s barefoot—she breathes in.

The blue lighting begins to fade, and it goes black. Almost. It is still evident enough to see silhouettes moving across the stage. She feels breathing down her neck, and her fear threatens to consume her again. She breathes out.

More buzzing from the transmitter and the pyrotechnic is running behind the stage. She feels a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and turns to see Sapphire smiling down at her. The water around her ankles begins to drain, and the shackles grow brittle enough for her to break them with a flick of her wrists. The shadows retreat from her glowing body, and her throat unclogs. She can breathe deeply now, without the feeling of water being forced down her throat.

 

_“Sound, GO.”_

 

Her legs don’t move.

 

She shakes and looks down. The last bit of fear was fighting its way to her system limb by limb. Her eyes are wide and she chokes on air. This was her cue. _Why couldn’t she move?!_

She lets go of the last bit of fear that was holding her down and closes her eyes. _She needs to get out there NOW._

And she does.

She dives in headfirst into the depths of the ocean, to the point where the curtain clings to her skin like seaweed and she becomes an exotic creature with bioluminescence that lights up the stage. She can’t see the audience, for her eyes are closed, and she trusts her muscle memory to do the right thing. She twirls and glides across the stage, fully aware that she just looks like a blur of blue to the audience, except for her face marks that pop out from the background.

The music fades in slowly as she regains perception, and _wow_ that’s loud.

She can feel every instrument ten-fold. The beat of the drums, the melody in the piano and the harmony in the violin, everything she knows, and everything she’s familiar with, just stronger, and more intense. It resonates within her chest, inside her lungs, between her ribs, it vibrates and sends shivers down her spine but she continues to dance and jump and breathe.

Like breathing underwater, she feels _alive_. Sweat trails down her neck, down her back, and it makes her dress stick to her skin like humidity, but she pays it no mind. After all, she’s soaked from head to toe in her frame of thought that fixes itself by the second. She swings left and right, jumps and runs with the music, like a note moving from one measure to the other, up with a crescendo and down with a diminuendo. A triplet, followed by a chromatic scale that gives her goosebumps, and then she’s down with a final whole note being held by a fermata.

She drops to her knees and her dress pools around her ankles with a dull sound that seems muted. She doesn’t know if it is the surround effect or her ears that have muted all sound but the music. She didn’t hear her steps, or her jumps, or any contact with the wooden stage; just the melody that moves her, like the river’s flow, or the ocean’s tide when the moon is high.

Her neck shifts swiftly in circles, and so do her arms while her legs remain tugged under her dress. The blue LEDs hit her face directly and she knows her face is glowing, and she prepares herself for the followspot to turn on.

When it does turn on, she’s on her feet, much livelier, with a change of pace, a change of tempo. From _adagio_ to _vivace_ in a matter of seconds, the instruments change and there’s a crescendo while the light of the followspot burns her skin—though it’s not painful, just alarmingly warm. Her moves become gradually faster until eventually.

She drops to her knees again and there’s a blackout.

And that’s the end of her first scene.

 

The show goes on for at least two hours with no intermission. It didn’t seem appropriate. The act was so intense, so vivid, and so sharp, that there was no way to insert a break. This also meant Lapis did not get a breather.

An hour into the arc and the smoke machine practically combusts, but at least it works, just, perhaps _too_ well. There’s smoke on the stage for longer than was practiced, which somewhat interferes with the lights, but the show goes on. It _must_ go on.

The lights flicker for a short period of time, and the technicians groan.

Mics stop working half way through a soliloquy, and one of the ellipsoidal lamps wiggles from the fly system, threatening to fall.

 

This year it doesn’t.

 

Some cues are missed and the technical crew fills in music cues to hide them. The actors laugh and they’re having the time of their life because even if they mess up, only _they_ know.

In the audience’s eyes, they just happen to be very eloquent.

The technical director’s hands move as if they were on a piano; turning every dimmer on par with the music, and she’s somewhat thankful she’s synchronized with her co-worker, because otherwise this would be all too difficult.

 

But that’s theatre.

 

An hour and a half in, and Lapis almost slips. Her voice is hoarse from screaming her lines with such raw emotion that each word drips with blood; every bitter drop gliding into every audience member’s heart filling them with guilt. Words like _you did this,_ and _you didn’t do anything to stop it_ all meaning so much _more._

Amethyst runs alongside Jasper to move the props into place, while the riggers, Buck and Jenny make sure the fly system is stable, and pull the ropes at the right times. Paint begins to smudge, and some moves are a little uncoordinated but they’re fine. Even Peridot misses a few cues—though she’d never admit it was a certain blue-haired actress’ fault—but recovers almost instantly. They don’t see the audience. They don’t want to, because their confidence will quiver in seconds, so they just look up. Hoping to see something—what exactly? Nobody knows.

Only thespians know what they see onstage.

Peridot envies them. She envies their grace, their beauty, their false sense of freedom, their overwhelming confidence that radiates from every move, and every word they mutter, even every look. They know what they’re doing and it’s simply inconceivable. They’re no longer _people,_ but moves on a board game and tricks in a magic act. And yet the audience is so enamored, dumbfounded, amazed. And they have all the right to be.

They were _everything_ onstage.

And that’s why it feels so strange when it ends. That’s why she’s not prepared for the final act, and it catches her completely off guard. She doesn’t miss the cues—heavens, no. Pearl would have her head—but she doesn’t expect it to end so _quickly_. At least, considering it took them so _long_ to be that prepared.

But that was to be expected from theatre. You practice for at least three months and it all ends in the course of a week, and if anything went wrong, they’d blame the tech unit, or Thespis. _Not the most plausible course of action, but there was no changing that._

Just like that, the last act began; was it the climax, the conclusion, or a simple denouement? Peridot wasn’t sure. Perhaps everything at once, because by the time it was over there was no resolution. No ending, no explanation, no Deus ex Machina. All that was left was a feeling of desolation, like a vacuum between your ribs. Like reading a book and finding out it ended on an open note, a metaphor that could be interpreted whatever way you wanted. It left the audience anxious, in wonder, and in some cases, mildly pissed off. Such was the confusion that there was no way to know if it had really ended. The audience didn’t clap. They waited patiently for Lapis to walk on stage again, for someone, anyone to clarify, but nothing. There was no way around it. In the audience’s eyes, she was trapped for eternity. No verdict, no resolve, no hero.

In retrospect, the ending marked out the end of the production; a soliloquy of the mind of every actor and crew member which was often followed by a blackout of continuity and routine. The rest of the week would be composed of weary cue-to-cues with energy that would never resemble that of the first show.

Ellipsoidal lights would be permanent in each actor’s eyes; like being surrounded by beacons of blinding light for weeks after the play. An unruly need to ad lib would later shake Lapis, who would ramble for hours about God knows what. Lines of different plays, lines of her own, anything that would fill that whole until it was time for another production.

Lapis had to admit that as emotionally draining as theatre was, she had grown addicted to the excitement that would rise from the pit of her stomach every time she heard the words _Call One_.

And Peridot came to the conclusion that there was really no such thing as a denouement.

The definition carved itself into her brain; _final outcome, loose ends are tied up._ _What an ironic concept_ , she thought bitterly as she made her way to the stage, getting ready for the curtain call. Turns out  that people did clap, she was just too distracted to notice; too distracted to notice the roaring of the crowd, or people throwing things at the stage (that later she would have to pick up) of screaming actor’s names, of crying.

 

Naturally, the curtain call was the last thing on her mind. To say she hurried to the changing room was an understatement.

She ran past her co-technicians, past the audience members walking towards the stage, past the managers and past the actors, (not without congratulating them on the way of course, she wasn’t _that_ apathetic) before stopping in front of the changing room. She hesitates to knock, her courage going to hell, and her palms grow sweaty. She looks left and right, only to find Amethyst looking right at her, hair tied up and leaning against the stage wall. The stagehand moves her arms frantically, urging her on, which, really, would be more reassuring if it wasn’t for the killer glare she was giving her. Peridot turns away, but smiles anyway. She’s about to knock when suddenly the door opens to a very, _very_ astonished blue-haired actress staring back at her.

There’s a pause, and the cheering of the crowd becomes a blur of noise in the back of their heads. Peridot wastes no time to hold the actress face and kiss her with such desperation that Lapis swallows a gasp. It takes her a while to relax and kiss back, and she doesn’t notice how much she needed it. Peridot pulls back, a little shocked at her actions, but smiles. It’s shy, but genuine, and for a second Lapis sees that little boy in the auditorium that believed in her with all his might. She smiles back and laughs, because it’s ridiculous, because there’s a crowd out there waiting for them to come out, because it’s all over.

_“Crew, get ready for the curtain call!”_

They walk together, fingers briefly brushing until one of them is brave enough to hold the other’s hand. It ends up being Lapis, who swings their arms playfully and looks down at her feet, confidence completely drained.

They stand behind the curtains, in a line with everybody else. Nobody speaks. They wait, laugh, smile, they celebrate silently by giving each other knowing looks. They hear Pearl and Rose making a speech and thanking gifts from the audience (most likely flowers. It’s always flowers). Peridot feels a nudge at her side.

“Hey, techie.” She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t protest this time.

“What?”

“Does this mean I win?”

She squeezes Lapis’ hand as the curtain begins to rise.

 

“Who said it was over?”

 


	9. Curtain Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a well deserved rest from a nerve-wrecking show, Lapis is ready to face her fears once again with the help of a grumpy technician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this whole thing has been fun to write. Thank you all for sticking with me for nearly three months of writing. Though it began as an experiment, I can say this is offically over. (God bless I can move on to another) But really, thank you. I wouldn't have continued if it wasn't for the constant feedback. 
> 
> So yeah, I'm a sucker for epilogues. So here I am, jumping on the "sudden update" train.

It’s strange. It really is.

It’s like her head just replays episodes over and over, like she’s living that moment again and again, except each time it is different, and she doesn’t know if she should be pleased or troubled. She decides that reliving waking up next to the same person every day is more pleasant than anything else. She knows it’s a bad habit to dwell on the past, but she can’t help but think how different things would be if she hadn’t accepted the role, if she hadn’t tripped, if she hadn’t called the technician out when she caught her staring, if she hadn’t done any of those things.

She guesses she’s rather thankful for her stubborn nature, and that is definitely an interesting concept to think about.

The aspect of sleep had become so foreign to her, and now she spent most of her time lying in bed (like she was doing now), resting as if it was the first time. And technically it was—she hadn’t slept much before due to that nagging fear in the back of her mind. That was another interesting thought; though it wasn’t entirely gone, she could _sleep_. And she had a faint suspicion that Peridot was having the same kind of realization.

Though maybe, she should’ve cleaned up the never-ending mess of papers resting on the mattress before falling asleep. Though she knew it was inevitable. That, for one, was a big change. Scripts, piles and piles, notes, comments, revisions, you name it, all colored differently. And all scattered along the apartment in random and—more often than not—ridiculous locations (She was still finding pieces of paper in the sound hole of her classical). She sits up from the bed and looks around; another impromptu nap after a night of memorizing, nothing new. She refuses to look at herself in the mirror, but for once, it is not in fear of what she’ll see differently, but because she _knows_ she’s currently a mess and would much rather distract herself with the notes left in complete disarray by her current practice companion.

She had to admit, techies couldn’t act for shit.  

That brings a rare smile to her face. Not a sneer, but that genuine smile that would show every time she played the guitar or went to the beach. That smile belonging to that rebellious teenage that constantly smelled of chlorine and ditched class too many times to sneak into the swimming pool or auditorium by herself. At least that obnoxious technical director tried.

And she was having a hard time keeping cool every time they had to go over certain suggestive scenes.

She hears the door handle turn, and she doesn’t need to check to know who it is (Not like anybody visited her at any given moment, so she wasn’t afraid of leaving the door unlocked)

It had become a ritual. A routine and arrangement of sounds is practically memorized;  a quiet atmosphere that is replaced by the shuffling papers being gripped by shaky hands, followed by the ‘thud’ of a backpack hitting the ground and Lapis doesn’t need to turn around to know that Peridot was home.

Well, okay. Perhaps the word _home_ was a little too domestic. But that’s exactly what it felt like.

She tries her best to shove the pile of papers on the desk and clear the surface of the mattress enough to be able to tell what color the sheets are, but given the fact Peridot was just as organized as she was, she probably wouldn’t notice.

She doesn’t need to meet her outside, so she distracts herself reading over the most recent script. She barely gets through the introduction sequence when she hears a knock on the door frame. She looks up and smiles, which she knows is a little out of character of her. Maybe it was the hazy state she was in.

“What?” Peridot tilts her head, expecting some sort of greeting, or a tale about some shitty co-worker, but instead she’s only met with a soft giggle.

“Nothing, just...Your eyes look very pretty in the sun.” And it’s not a lie. Getting herself lost within that surreal state of detachment she was so used made her a little bold, she had to admit. But there was not a lot to think about when a pair of green eyes stares at you with an expression of relative ease, in a convenient solar angle.  Peridot turns her head, of course, hiding her evident blush, but doesn’t try to throw some snarky remark like she used to. She was running out of comebacks. She couldn’t blame her.

Peridot sits next to her and reads over the script she was holding. Shoulders touching, her head practically leaning over Lapis’, it was all so strangely intimate and yet, oddly mundane. Lapis prefers to look at the other while she reads, the scenes and acts completely forgotten,   because, really, what’s more interesting than looking at something you couldn’t predict? It was ironic, considering there was no person more likely to plan every action of their entire span of existence than Peridot, but at the same time, everything she did was so erratic in a way? Lapis wasn’t sure why, but she found it fascinating.

But maybe she should be a little more subtle about it because Peridot noticed and is looking at her with an expression that could best be described as “you useless lesbian”.

Without thinking, (like most of the things she does) she lean in, pressing her lips against Peridot’s.

The other is surprised, but not necessarily taken off guard. You could say she was used to it. Or perhaps she was thinking of doing the same thing, but because we don’t know what is going through her mind we don’t know that that was exactly what she was planning on doing. On normal occasions, it would certainly escalate. Hands would roam freely from her hair until they reached the hem of her shirt, or one would push the other onto the mattress (more often than not, it was hard to tell whom). But they’re happy with just that. Just listening to each other’s steady breathing, surrounded by things that essentially remind them of everything they lived for. The empty room that would only have a couple of paintings and a dusty guitar was now a mess of tin and metal due to constant tinkering from the technician. Staying up for hours talking about trivial things was part of their routine.

They had become part of each other’s lives.

And Lapis was okay with that, even though she preferred solitude. She slowly lies down, dragging Peridot with her with that thought.

It brings odd memories to sit in the same room to rest.

 

_“Alright, so let me get this straight. A stage light fell on you?”_

_“Well that’s putting it lightly-”_

_“-And crushed your legs.”_

_“…Yes.”_

_“And that’s why you have these.”_ She tapped the surface of the implement starting at Peridot’s knee almost experimentally. The material was smooth and strangely warm, though she simply assumed her hands were cold. The technician nods somewhat shyly. _So much for the confident act,_ she sighs. Lapis gives up after Peridot turns away and gets lost tracing the curved edges of the artificial limb with her fingers.

_“They’re really not that interesting, Lapis.”_ Peridot shifts uncomfortably, feeling vulnerable and Lapis knows it, but she gives her hand a squeeze to reassure her.

_“Hey, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is admittedly kind of cool.”_

_“I don’t think ‘cool’ is the right word for it.”_

_“What, you want me to say ‘neat’?”_

_“That’s even worse!”_ Her hands immediately fly to her face as she groans loudly, as if hearing one of Lapis’ dumb puns for the first time. _“The whole thing is just pretty embarrassing.”_

_“How were you supposed to know the counterweight would give out?”_

_“Lazuli, I’m a technician. I’m supposed to know if the equipment is faulty_.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and Lapis tries her best not to smile. _“-Though the fire was a surprise.”_

_“Thermal energy?”_

_“Quartz-halogen.”_

_“Pleasant.”_

She feels Peridot breathe in and out before rolling her jeans down again.

And that was the end of that exchange.

* * *

 

Other times they’d each leave for a short period of time and come back as if they hadn’t see each other in ages.

Rather dramatic, to say the least.

How regrettably appropriate.

And now she lied there.

Replaying everything they’d been through in the past half a year. It was almost like a movie; or better yet, a _play._ In fact, every action felt scripted, and organized into a thought-out plan, and for once she wasn’t complaining. She appreciated volatility, but she also appreciated a well written book or show. Lapis allows herself to get lost within the scenes playing through her head. The ambient background noise is muffled and all she feels is the breathing of the person resting next to her. She finds it ironic to be able to relax next to the person that made her so anxious before.

“Don’t fall asleep on me. I just got here.” She’s brought back when a familiar weight nests itself on her stomach, and a lazy arm makes its way to Lapis’ side, wrapping itself around her waist. She looks down to find a mess of blond hair and a pair of green eyes looking back at her expectantly. Peridot’s eyes are clouded with sleep and her whole expression is relaxed enough to baffle the actress. She runs a hand through her hair and she _swears_ she hears the technician purr, but that might have been her imagination. She can feel the other breathe out, and this coated warm breeze brushes against her abdomen. She kind of figures Peridot’s hair is fun to play with, or at least, pleasant to brush with her finger tips, so that’s what she does. 

She gently pulls at the technician’s hair, earning a faint ‘ow’, but no coherent apology. “You’re such a pain.”

“Want me to leave?” She moves her hands to push herself up, but Lapis pushes her head back down.

“Mm…no.” Lapis shifts her weight and makes a series of questionable noises, but doesn’t make any effort to move from her spot. “You’re warm and I’m comfy so shut the fuck up.”

“You’re so needy.”

“So’s you mom.”

“Your comebacks put 12-year-olds to shame.”

“Damn right.”

There’s a comfortable pause between exchanges and exhales, and really, Lapis thinks these pauses are much more pleasant than the tension that had built up before. She counts the spins of her ceiling fan in hopes of distracting herself, and unconsciously twirls Peridot’s curls between her fingers.

“Y’know, you hated me when I first met you.” She bites back a growl, and settles with a long sigh of resignation.

“No shit, you were an ass. Still are.”

“Your words make me feel things, Lazuli.”

“You’ll be feeling much more than my words if you don’t shut up already.”

“Is that supposed to be threat?” Peridot pushes herself up and settles down in the space between Lapis’ neck and shoulder. She looks up curiously behind (now curvy) strands of hair that fall unceremoniously in front of her face. Lapis sucks in a breath, but doesn’t stop from pushing herself up and holding the other’s face with her hands. The skin under her palms is warm and still covered in freckles, and really, she doesn’t remember Peridot’s eyes changing color under the sunlight. It might be the lack of sleep but she sees a speck of gold deep within a pool of green that catches her eye, as if reflecting sunlight.

She idly traces the other’s cheeks, slope of her nose, jawline, gradually pulling her in. Peridot relaxes almost entirely; blinking slowly and breathing deeply, holding herself up with her hands on Lapis’ sides.

“You’re pretty cute for a jackass.” She winks and laughter bubbles up inside of her when she notices the other girl’s flustered expression; her nose wrinkles as she frowns, and her cheeks are flushed lightly.

“Just kiss me already, you ass.”

And that’s exactly what she does.

It’s lazy, sloppy, but they’re so tired that they don’t really pay much mind to it. Eventually Lapis ends up sinking onto the mattress, with Peridot hovering over her (maybe it would escalate after all). She holds in a shiver as she looks up, and suddenly all of the confidence she had built up melts under the other’s gaze. Peridot doesn’t move. She simply stares and doesn’t even try to hide it. She’d think of it as rude if she wasn’t so flustered. It takes her a while to notice that the other had zoomed out. She thinks of poking her, to bring her back somehow—not that she really wanted to, the look on her face was strangely charming. She decides not to. Lapis breathes in and takes her time to admire the person on top of her. For a person that was so quick to yell at a coworker, Peridot had a very serene neutral expression.

Eventually she snaps out of it, looking slightly perplexed.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing in particular; just an insufferable actress that’s been messing with my head for a while now.”

“You don’t say? I bet she’s pretty hot.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh but I do. You wanna know what her deal is?” Peridot plays along, lifting herself up to sit cross-legged in front of Lapis. The actress follows after, climbing onto the technician’s lap and wrapping her arms around her neck with an impish grin splattered across her face the entire time. “She fell for the biggest nerd. Can you believe that?”

“Did she?” Peridot wraps her arms around Lapis’ waist and rests her forehead against hers.

“Yep. Pretty weird, considering she’s like, way out of her league.”

“Okay rude.” She allows herself to laugh and quickly kisses Peridot, catching her off guard for once. She blinks. “That’s cheating.”

They stay like that for a while longer; breathing in each other’s… _everything_ at this point. It’s warm, familiar; it’s something they’re used to. Peridot rests her head on Lapis’ shoulder, fiddling with the hem of the other’s shirt and relaxes again. Lapis runs her hand through Peridot’s hair in an effort to style it, failing spectacularly, until she promptly comes to a stop.

“Hey, Peridot.”

“Hmm?”

“I got the role.”

Her expression changes entirely in a span of seconds, and Lapis has a hard time concealing her evident delight. Peridot’s eyes go wide, and her smile is so large Lapis can see the juvenile excitement of a six year-old fighting to be released. She spots disbelief in the other’s gaze, but it is promptly replaced by realization, and finally utter enthusiasm.

It doesn’t take long before she’s pulled into a hug and kissed with enough fervor to leave her breathless. She kisses back with almost the same about of intensity, running her hands through the technician’s hair and pulling back to rest her forehead against hers. She breathes in. A sudden bolt of electricity rushes through her as Peridot opens her eyes and her heart jumps to her throat. She sees the same color she saw back in the sound room, back in that ominous production, and for a second she feels the same amount of fear and nervousness she once felt.

But then she smiles and everything melts away.

And in the end, that’s all she cares about.

For that fear to melt away with a single action. That’s all she needed. All she truly wanted.

That fright is still present of course

But maybe

Just maybe

She could get over it with a little help.

* * *

 

“So? When are we checking out the theater?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They end up working together for that production again. Pearl tried to hire the same tech crew ever since she found out about them. Jasper lost a bet against Amethyst the day they came in together hand in hand.


End file.
